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THE LUNCH. Pajje 75. 





Next-Door Neighbors; 


OR, 

JANIE’S FA/\IL?. 


BY 

/ 


MRS. I. T. THURSTON, 

i) 


Author of “ Ruth Prentice.” 



CINCINNATI: CRANSTON 

NEW YORK : HUNT & EATON. 


1895. 



COPYRIGHT 

BY CRANSTON & CURTS, 
1895. 


&], //*>/ 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. Page. 

Tommy Lost, 7 

CHAPTER II. 

Dick’s Search, 18 

CHAPTER III. 

A Through-the-Fence Fight, 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

David Soeomon’s First Ride, 40 

CHAPTER V. 

A Chapter of Accidents, 46 

CHAPTER VI. 

A New Famiey, 58 

CHAPTER VII. 

Janie Goes Out to Lunch, 73 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Bert Lends a Hand, 85 

CHAPTER IX. 

An Impromptu Party, 96 


3 


4 


Contents. 


CHAPTER X. page. 

Bert Spoils Sport 106 

CHAPTER XI. 

Marianna Goes Visiting, • • . . 117 

CHAPTER XII. 

Measees, 127 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Mother Brown’s Birthday, 139 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Marianna’s Littee Gire, 154 

CHAPTER XV. 

At the Chiedren’s Hospitae, 169 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Dick’s Temptation, 182 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Dick’s Confession 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

[ohnny’s Departure, . . . . 207 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Johnny in Troubee, 220 

CHAPTER XX. 

At the Zoo 238 


Contents. 


5 


CHAPTER XXI. page. 

A Eoneey Eittee Rich Chied, . 254 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Life or Death, 268 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Thanksgiving at Aunt Sarah’s, 280 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Johnny’s Perie, 295 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Christmas at the Browns’, 306 






NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBORS. 


CHAPTER I. 

TOMMY LOST. 

I T was very still that afternoon in the little 
house where the Browns lived. Johnny lay 
on the lounge, his eyes half-shut. The baby 
was sitting on the floor, playing with the white 
kitten, and Janie sat by the window, mending 
stockings — such a pile of them, of all colors 
and sizes. 

The clock struck three. Johnny opened his 
eyes, and the baby stopped stroking the white 
kitten’s fur the wrong way. 

“Tom,” said the baby. 

“Yes,” said Janie, “Tommy will be home 
pretty soon now.” 

“Tom,” repeated the baby, pushing a chair 
to the window beside Janie, and clambering 
up into it. 

“Yes, baby, the children will be along in a 
few minutes, now,” Janie repeated. 


7 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


It was one of the baby’s chief amusements to 
watch the children troop by, when the school 
on the next block was dismissed. 

They came flocking down the street now, in 
groups, and in twos and threes. The baby stood 
in the chair, with his little pug-nose flattened 
against the window. He laughed, and pointed 
presently, and Janie looked up from her mend- 
ing. “Yes, there comes Marianna,” she said. 

Marianna came in with a rush, flinging her 
hat into a chair, and banging her books on the 
table. 

“Where’s Tommy, Marianna?” said Janie. 

“I don’ know. Hain’t seen him since noon. 
Say, Janie, I’m going out on the vacant lots to 
play.” 

“Well,” began Janie; then she broke off, and 
exclaimed, “ O Marianna, how did you tear that 
great place in your dress?” 

“I couldn’t help it, Janie; it caught on a 
nail in the school-yard fence. It was n’t my 
fault,” said Marianna, defiantly. ' 

“Well, you must take it off and mend it be- 
fore you go out to play,” said Janie. 

Marianna began to cry. “ I think it ’s real 
mean of you to say that, Janie Brown. I have n’t 
played out one bit to-day, ’n’ you know ma says 


Tommy Tost. 


9 


I ought to play every day. I’m just going to 
tell how you won’t let me, so now.” 

Janie looked troubled. “ But, Marianna, your 
dress must be mended to wear to school to-mor- 
row, and I have n’t time to do it. Took at all 
these stockings I ’ve got to mend,” she said. 

“Well, I’ll mend it after supper,” whined 
Marianna, pouting. 

“Well, if you ’ll be sure to do it, I s’pose you 
can play till supper-time,” said Janie; “but 
you must put on your old dress, or you ’ll have 
twice as big a tear to mend.” 

Marianna went up-stairs to change her dress. 
In two minutes she came down, and ran off 
hastily, lest her sister might think of some other 
waiting task. They heard her outside, as she 
put her fingers over her mouth and gave the 
call peculiar to the girls of the neighborhood. 

Janie patiently filled up the yawning chasms 
in. the small stockings, and the baby, tired of 
watching for Tom, went back to his play with the 
kitten, rousing it unceremoniously from its brief 
slumbers. The clock struck four. “Tom,” said 
the baby, running to the window again. 

“ Tommy must have stopped to play on the 
way home,” Janie said. “He is a naughty 
boy.” 


IO 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“Yes,” said the baby, gravely nodding his 
golden head. 

But when the clock struck five, Janie laid 
aside her work with an anxious face. “Johnny,” 
she said, “put on your cap, and go over to the 
vacant lots, and tell Marianna that she must go 
and find Tommy. He has never been so late as 
this before.” 

Johnny got up reluctantly, and took his cap 
from a nail. He walked heavily and wearily, 
but he said nothing. 

“I know he did n’t want to go, but it ’s better 
for him to get a breath of fresh air,” said Janie, 
in a motherly fashion, as she looked after him. 

When Johnny came back, there was a touch 
of color in his pale cheeks, and he sat down in 
a rocking-chair, instead of lying on the lounge. 

It was some time before Marianna returned ; 
then she came in looking a trifle disturbed. 

“I can’t find Tommy anywhere,” she said, 
“and Willie Barton says he wasn’t at school 
this afternoon.” 

Janie started up with anxious eyes. “ Was n’t 
at school this afternoon!” she repeated. “Is he 
sure ?” 

“’Course he is; he’s in Tommy’s class,” 
said Marianna, quite enjoying the excitement 


Tommy Tost. 


ii 


she had awakened. She looked at Janie, eager 
to see what she would say next. Janie looked 
perplexed, as well as anxious. 

“ I do n’t know what to do,” she said. “ If he 
does n’t come, Dick will have to go after him.” 

“It ’s ’most supper-time,” remarked Johnny, 
fretfully. “I want my supper.” 

“Yes, I must get supper,” said Janie, with 
another glance at the clock. “ Marianna, you 
set the table while I toast the bread.” 

Marianna did n’t like to set the table. She 
pulled it out with a yank, jerked the cloth over 
it, and slammed the dishes down so hard that, 
if they had not been thick and heavy, there 
would have been more than one broken ; but 
for once Janie did not notice. 

Supper was ready when Dick came in. Dick 
was thirteen. He had a paper route, and went 
from school right to the newspaper-office to get 
the fifty papers, which he delivered to the cus- 
tomers on his route. 

“What’s the matter?” Dick asked, noting 
Janie’s red eyes and the disturbed air of the 
household. 

Janie tried to answer, but she could not trust 
her voice, and turned away in silence. Marianna 
could trust her voice. “It’s Tommy; he ’s lost,” 


12 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


she announced, watching Dick’s face to see how 
he would take the announcement. 

“Lost! I guess so,” said Dick, scornfully. 

“ But he A,” persisted Marianna. “ He did n’t 
go to school this afternoon, an’ he has n’t been 
home since, an’ I ’ve hunted all ’round the 
neighborhood for him, an’ nobody has n’t seen 
him.” 

Dick looked a little disturbed at this; but, 
glancing at Janie, who was furtively wiping her 
eyes, he assumed a careless air. 

“ O well,” he said, “ I ’ll find him easy enough, 
I bet. Let’s have supper, Janie, ’n’ then I’ll 
start out an’ hunt him up.” 

Janie took her seat at the table then; but she 
busied herself attending to the baby’s wants, 
and ate nothing. 

Presently Marianna leaned forward, and 
looked across the table at her. 

“Why don’t you eat any supper, Janie ?” 
she said, curiously. “Is it ’cause you ’re worry- 
ing ’bout Tommy?” 

That was too much for Janie. She left the 
table hastily, and ran up-stairs. 

“What a duffer you are, Ann!” said Dick, 
angrily. “ Why could n’t you ’tend to your own 
supper, an’ let Janie alone?” 


Tommy Tost. 


13 


“Ain’t no more of a duffer ’n you are your- 
self,” retorted Marianna, sullenly, devoting her- 
self anew to her meal, and eating two extra 
cookies, because Janie had eaten none. 

Johnnie had long since pushed away his 
chair, and gone back to the lounge. Dick ran 
up-stairs when he had finished his supper. 
Janie was lying on the bed, with her face hid- 
den in the pillow. 

“Say, Janie,” Dick said, awkwardly, “I’m 
going now, and I ’ll find him sure.” 

“O Dick, I do hope you will !” she answered. 
“If you don’t, we’ll have — to — send — for 
mother.” She broke off then with a little sob; 
but she choked back her tears, saying, “I must 
go down and see to the children and, wiping 
her eyes, she followed Dick down-stairs. She 
did not ask Marianna to wipe the dishes ; she 
was glad to busy herself with them. Marianna 
was afraid she would ask her, and pretended not 
to see what she was doing. Then Janie un- 
dressed the baby, who was so sleepy that he 
could hardly hold his eyes open ; and the tears 
came again when, as she lifted him into bed, 
he looked up into her face with a grieved droop 
to his little, round mouth, and said, “Tom,” 
and then patted the pillow where Tommy’s 


H 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


rough, tousled head had lain on other nights. 
She went down-stairs, and took up her stocking- 
basket again, forgetting all about Marianna’s 
torn dress. Marianna did not forget, but she 
said never a word lest possibly Janie might, 
even now, make her mend it herself. 

Presently, there was a knock at the door, and 
Willie Barton’s mother came in. 

“And so your Tommy is lost,” she began, as 
she seated herself in the rocking-chair and com- 
menced to rock back and forth. “Dear, dear ! I 
do n’t wonder you ’re worried. I should be out 
of my senses with anxiety if it was my Willie. 
Do you think he can have strayed down to the 
river, now ? Or maybe he ’s been run over by 
the grip-car. I saw a boy run over an’ killed 
one day last summer. He was awfully man- 
gled — torn limb from limb, almost.” 

“ O, Mrs. Barton, don’t!” said Janie, faintly. 
“I can’t bear it.” 

“ O, well, maybe he ain’t hurt, you know — 
though if he was, he might ’a’ been carried to the 
hospital, and you might not find out where he is 
for days. I ’ve known of such cases. But I must 
run home an’ see to my babies. Willie, he ’s 
dretful anxious to know what ’s become of 
Tommy.” 


Tommy Tost. 


i5 


With a sigh of relief, Janie closed the door 
after her caller, but had hardly taken up her 
work before two more neighbors came. One sug- 
gested that Tommy might have been taken sick 
suddenly — had a fit or something ; and the other, 
that he might have been throwing stones in the 
street, and been “run in ” to the lock-up by a 
policeman. 

“ I wish ther’ would n’t any more of those 
folks come,” said Johnny, who had lain silent 
on the lounge all the time, while Marianna had 
listened with a shivery sort of delight to all 
these terrible suggestions. Not that she wanted 
anything to happen to Tommy, but it was so 
delightfully exciting to have people so anxiously 
interested. 

Seven o’clock struck, then eight, and still there 
was no sign of Dick or Tommy. Then came 
another rap on the door, and, to Janie’s dismay, 
it was Mrs. Grady this time. The Gradys lived 
in another little frame house adjoining the one 
that the Browns occupied. They were not 
pleasant neighbors, and the Brown children were 
forbidden to play with the small Gradys. But 
to-night Mrs. Grady’s coarse, red face was full 
of real concern. 

“ Willie Barton was telling me that Tommy 


1 6 Next-Door Neighbors. 

is lost,” she said ; and as Janie nodded silently, 
she went on kindly: “Now don’t ye be thinking 
of all kinds of dretful accidents, Janie. My 
Billy’s staid off so more ’n once, ’n he always 
turns up all right. I guess Tommy will, too. 
Likely he ’s strayed off an’ got into some part of 
the city that’s strange to him, an’ it’ll take a 
right smart time for him to get back home. 
Don’t ye fret, child; an’ if there’s any place 
ye’d like my boys to run for ye, I’ll send ’em, 
and be glad to do it.” 

“It’s real good of you, Mrs. Grady,” said 
Janie, gratefully ; “ but I don’t know any place 
to send. Dick’s out looking for him.” 

“ Well, then, he ’ll find him, I ’m sure he will,” 
said Mrs. Grady as she, too, departed. 

“She’s better ’n the rest of ’em, if she is 
Billy Grady’s mother,” said Johnny, while Mari- 
anna, with her beadlike black eyes fixed on her 
sister’s face, remarked : “ She did n’t make you 
cry again, did she, Janie?” 

But now the clock struck nine, and Janie sent 
the children to bed. Johnny went without a 
word, but Marianna protested loudly that she 
was n’t sleepy one bit, and she knew she ’d lie 
awake till Dick came home. She went at last, 
however, slowly and reluctantly, dragging her 


Tommy Tost. 


17 


feet noisily over the stairs. Then Janie turned 
down the lamp, and putting a shawl about her, 
opened the window and sat there with a heavy, 
aching heart, straining her eyes through the dark- 
ness, and listening longingly for the footsteps 
that did not come. Ten o’clock sounded from 
the steeples of the dark and lonely churches — 
eleven — and still anxious and sorrowful, with 
tear-blinded eyes and strained ears, poor Janie 
waited by the open window. 


CHAPTER II. 


DICK’S SEARCH. 


ICK started out, feeling by no means so 



L-J confident of success as he had meant Janie 
to think. 

As soon as he was out of sight of the house 
he stopped on a corner, and tried to decide 
where to go first. As he stood there, he saw a 
policeman coming towards him. 

“Our policeman — I’ll ask him what to do,” 
he thought, as he walked towards the man. 

“ Say, Mister — you know Tommy, my little 
brother, don’t you?” he began. 

“Your little brother? O, that stout little 
chap, five or six years old, that lives in one of 
the frame houses up here next to the Gradys? 
Yes, I know him, though I did n’t know his 
name. Anything wrong with him?” he said. 

“He’s lost. Hain’t been home since noon. 
He did n’t go to school this afternoon, ’n’ I do n’t 
know where to look for him,” said Dick. 

“ He might be at some other boy’s house, 
you know — might have stopped to play,” sug- 
gested the man. 


Dick’s Search. 


19 


“No ; he’d certainly have come home to sup- 
per,” said Dick. “ I ’ve got to find him,” he 
added, “ an’ I don’t at all know where to look.” 

The policeman glanced thoughtfully at Dick. 
“You say he’s not been seen since noon?” 

Dick nodded. 

“Is he interested in monkeys, generally?” 

“Yes,” said Dick; “he always hangs ’round 
an organ-grinder that has a monkey.” 

“ That’s it, then,” said the policeman ; “there 
was an organ ’round here this noon, an’ I saw a 
raft of children watching it. Bet a cookie that 
Tommy of yours was one of them, an’ followed 
the concern off ; prob’ly wandered so far ’t he 
could n’t find his way back.” 

“But he’d ’a’ found his way back by this 
time, Tommy would. He knows enough to ask 
the way.” 

“ Wal’, ye see them little shavers, they ’ll 
walk miles sometimes after one of them organ 
monkeys, an’ never realize how tired they be till 
the monkey goes off, ’n’ then the little kids are 
too tired to tell where they live.” 

“What becomes of them then?” said Dick, 
anxiously. 

“ Why, then the first policeman that comes 
along runs ’em in, an’ keeps ’em till called for ; 


20 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


or, if they can tell where they live, they ’re sent 
home.” 

“Well, that’s what I said. Tommy would 
have told where he lives.” 

“ Jes’ so, an’ they may be a-sendin’ of him 
home this very minute,” said the man ; “but now 
an’ then these organ-grinders let a child follow 
’em home, an’ keep him to help ’em to collect 
the pennies, and so on, you know.” 

Dick looked troubled at this suggestion. The 
policeman went on. “ Prob’ly that organ-grinder 
was an Eyetalian — most of ’em are ; an’ there’s 
another of the same breed that lives in a shanty 
a few blocks down. You come along with me, 
an’ we’ll see if he knows anything about this 
fellow.” 

So Dick and the policeman walked on to- 
gether. They found the organ-grinder at home ; 
but he denied all knowledge of the man they 
were in search of. He directed them, however, 
to another of his countrymen who “ might 
know,” he said. 

“I can’t go to that place with you — it’s off 
my beat,” said the policeman ; “ but if you ’ll 
wait on this corner for a few minutes till the 
man on duty here comes along, I ’ll ask him to 
go to that place with you, an’ if you can find 


Dick’s Search. 


21 


out where the monkey feller lives, I ’ll go around 
to his place with you when I’m relieved — that’ll 
be in an hour or so.” 

A word from the good-natured policeman to 
the second, who presently came along, interested 
him in Dick and his missing brother, and soon 
the boy was hunting up another “ Eyetalian,” 
under the escort of policeman No. 2. This time 
he obtained the information he wanted. “But, 
see here,” said policeman No. 2, “ you can’t go 
’way over there alone. It ’s one of the worst 
places in the city — a nest of thieves and drunk- 
ards, and worse.” 

But Dick explained that “ his policeman ” 
was to go with him, and, thanking this one, he 
ran back and waited for the other. 

“ Sho’, now, we’ve got a jaunt before us,” 
said the man, when Dick told him what he had 
learned. “ Here comes my car. Jump on. I 
must go down to the station and report, and be- 
sides, we want to make sure that Tommy wasn’t 
run in there.” 

The ride seemed endless to Dick, who hated 
to think of Tommy in such an evil place ; but 
the station was reached at last. No child an- 
swering to Tommy’s description had been 
brought there that day, and in as short a time 


22 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


as possible Dick and the friendly policeman 
were in another car, on their way to a quarter 
of the city where Dick had never been before. 

When they left the car, they turned off the 
avenue, and walked through several streets before 
they reached the narrow, squalid alley they 
sought. It was after nine o’clock now, and the 
better streets were beginning to grow dark and 
quiet as lights were put out and houses closed 
for the night, but here all was noise and tumult. 
Dirty children, noisy women, and drunken men 
were everywhere, and such wretched tumble- 
down houses ! Dick shuddered as his thoughts 
went back to the poor but comfortable home 
that was his. 

Into one of these wretched houses the po- 
liceman went, Dick following, and up the dirty, 
rickety stairs to the garret. Dick never forgot 
that forlorn room — with the hand-organ in one 
corner, a pile of rags and straw in another, a 
broken chair and table, and the organ-grinder, 
with the shivering little monkey on his shoul- 
der. Dick looked eagerly about the bare little 
place, but saw no sign of Tommy. 

The organ-grinder was frightened enough at 
sight of the policeman. He declared, in his 
broken English, that he knew nothing about any 


Dick’s Search. 


23 


boy. So many followed him every day. They 
followed him many blocks, and when they got 
tired left him and went to their homes, he sup- 
posed. He “ knew nothing, nothing at all,” he 
kept repeating. When the policeman asked 
him where he went after he left the street where 
Tommy lived, the man readily told through 
what streets he had gone. 

“ Ah !” said the policeman, interrupting him ; 
“ so you went up near the Zoo, did you — where 
the wild animals are, and the monkeys?” 

“Yes, yes,” said the man. 

“ And did any of the children leave you there 
and go in to see the animals ?” 

“ But, yes ! yes !” repeated the man quickly 
and eagerly, holding up four fingers ; “so many 
go — all boys.” 

“Ah !” repeated the policeman, turning to 
Dick. “Well, my boy, the Zoo seems to be the 
next place for us to investigate. But mind 
you,” he added, turning again to the man, 
“ you ’ve no business to let small children follow 
you. You ought to send ’em home. See that 
you do after this, if you do n’t want to get into 
trouble.” 

“ But, yes ! yes !” repeated the man, with a 
look of relief as he saw his visitors depart. 


24 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Another long ride in the cable-cars brought 
the two to the Zoo — closed for the night long 
since, of course ; but at the policeman’s sum- 
mons the door of the superintendent’s office was 
opened at once. As he glanced into the lighted 
room, Dick gave a cry: “There he is! that’s 
Tommy,” he said. 

“Tommy, is it?” said the man who had 
opened the door. “Well, I’m glad to find out 
his name. He would n’t tell us what it was. 
But come in,” and he held the door wide for 
them to enter. 

“ Well, Tommy Brown, how came you here ?” 
began Dick. 

But Tommy, looking past Dick as if he were 
not there, remarked : “Why, I do believe that ’s 
my own p’liceman.” 

The policeman grinned, then recollecting 
himself, put on his sternest look as he asked : 
“ See here, young man, how came you here ? 
That ’s what we want to know.” 

“ Why, I just came here — walked, you know,” 
replied Tommy, still avoiding his brother’s eye. 

“Walked, did ye ? Well, I guess you ’d better 
be walkin’ home now,” said the policeman. “ Me 
’n’ your brother have had a fine hunt for you.” 

“Urn,” remarked Tommy. Then, slipping 



“THERE HE IS! THAT’S TOMMY.” Page 24 





Dick’s Search. 


25 


down from his seat, he walked over to the man 
in charge of the office, and said: “I ’ve had a 
splendid time, Mister, ’n’ I ’ll come again some 
time.” 

“When you can’t stay so long,” said the man, 
laughing; and to the policeman he added: “If 
we could have found out where he lived, we ’d 
have sent him home ; but he would n’t tell us, 
so we were going to keep him till morning, and 
put an ad. in the Post .” 

“You see, I did n’t want to make you so much 
trouble to send me home,” remarked Tommy. 
“Come, Dick, I’m waiting,” he added, as he 
slipped his small fingers into the policeman’s 
big hand, and started towards the door. 

“He’s a cool one, he is,” laughed the man, 
as he shut the door after the three. 

Tommy utterly ignored his brother on the 
way home, but devoted himself to the police- 
man, who shook with silent laughter over some 
of the small boy’s descriptions of the strange 
animals he had seen at the Zoo; but Dick 
marched on in unsmiling silence, tired out with 
the long, search and the anxiety, and much more 
inclined to shake his small brother than to laugh 
at his queer remarks. They got out of the car 
at their own corner, the policeman going on to 
3 


26 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


his home. The clock had struck eleven before 
Janie’s quick ears caught the sound of footsteps 
coming down the block. She flew to the door, 
and as the two figures — one tall and one short — 
turned towards the house, she went flying out 
to catch in her arms the small cause of so much 
anxiety, and shower upon him kisses, to which 
he passively submitted. “ Come now,” said Dick, 
gruffly, as they went into the house. “Get him 
to bed, will you, Janie, and find me something 
to eat? I’m just dead tired.” 

“I’ll have some coffee for you in no time, 
Dick,” Janie answered. “I kept the fire; but 
where did you find him?” 

“Up t’ the Zoo,” said Dick, briefly; where- 
upon Tommy broke out rapturously: 

“O Janie, they ’ve got lots an’ lots of an’mals 
up there — lions an’ tigers an’ snakes, an’ O such 
piles of monk — ” 

But Dick cut short his remarks. 

“ Come now, I ’ve had enough of you for one 
night,” he said, shortly. “You clear out to bed 
straight away, sir; an’ if you ever cut up like 
this again, I ’ll — ” 

But Tommy was half-way up the stairs, and 
Dick’s sentence was never finished. 

“ Do you think Tommy has had any supper?” 


Dick’s Search. 


27 


Janie asked, as Dick drew his chair up to the 
table. 

“Supper! Of course he had some with that 
fellow up t’ the Zoo. I saw some grub on the 
table,” said Dick. 

When, after Dick had finished his meal and 
told the story of his search, Janie went up to 
bed, she found Tommy fast asleep beside the 
baby. As she stooped to kiss him, she saw that 
his lashes were wet, and his cheeks flushed ; 
but, luckily for her peace of mind, she never 
knew that he had gone to bed without a mouth- 
ful of supper, too proud to say that he was 
hungry, after Dick had so curtly dismissed him. 


CHAPTER III. 


A “THROUGH-THE-FENCE” FIGHT. 
HINGS went altogether wrong in the little 



A frame house the next morning. In the first 
place, Janie overslept, which was not strange, 
since it was long after midnight when she got 
to bed. The seven o’clock bells were ringing 
when she awoke, and, starting up, began hur- 
riedly to dress, at the same time calling to her 
sister : 

“Marianna, Marianna, get right up and dress 
the baby, and wake up the boys. It’s after seven 
now!” 

But Marianna, always wide awake at night, 
was always sleepy in the morning. She half 
opened her eyes, and said, sleepily, “Yes, I’ll 
get right up,” and as Janie hurried down-stairs, 
turned over and went to sleep again, while the 
tired boys in the next room slept on undis- 
turbed. 

“O dear!” sighed Janie, as she threw open 
the kitchen shutters, “Dick forgot to cut the 
kindlings last night, and now I must do it.” 

It was slow work with the dull old ax, and 


28 


A “ Through-thk-F^nce ” Fight. 


29 


in the midst of her chopping she heard the 
milkman’s rap, and had to run to the door with 
the pitcher. Then the east wind blew the 
smoke down the chimney, filling the kitchen 
and setting Janie’s eyes to smarting. She cast 
an anxious glance at the clock as she flung 
open doors and windows to let out the smoke, 
and ran up-stairs again. Finding Marianna 
sound asleep, she rudely dispelled her slumbers 
with a vigorous shake. Of course Marianna 
was cross then ; but she was apt to be cross in 
the morning, anyhow. 

“ Now dress just as fast as you can, and 
hurry down-stairs, for it’s half-past seven this 
minute ; and if you do n’t help me, I can’t have 
breakfast ready in time for school,” Janie said, 
as she called the boys, and then ran down-stairs 
again. 

At last the fire was burning, and she could 
get breakfast. She put on the tea-kettle, and 
set the oatmeal to cook, and then came another 
rap at the door. This time it was a neighbor, 
come to inquire if Tommy had been found, and 
where; and Janie had to answer a score of ques- 
tions, while the precious moments slipped away. 

“I can’t help it. We’ll just have to eat 
cold bread and meat for breakfast,” she said, 


30 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


when the neighbor was gone ; and, hurriedly 
setting the table, Janie called the children from 
the foot of the stairs. 

Dick came down, looking tired and cross. 
Tommy followed in much the same condition ; 
and Marianna brought up the rear, with the 
baby still in his night-gown. 

“ Why, Marianna, why didn’t you dress him?” 
said Janie. “I think you might have done that 
much.” 

“ Well, I just guess, Janie Brown, if your 
shoestring had broken three times, and your 
hair got all tangled up when you were trying 
to braid it, you would n’t ’a’ had much time to 
dress any baby,” snapped Marianna, flopping 
herself down at the table. 

Janie poured out Dick’s coffee, helped Tommy 
to oatmeal, and then, picking up the baby, the 
only one of the six whose face was bright and 
unruffled, carried him off up-stairs and dressed 
him. She was just giving him his breakfast a 
little later, when there came a third rap at the 
door. This time it was Willie Barton. 

“ Mamma sent me over to know if Tommy — ” 
he began ; then, catching sight of that young gen- 
tleman, he broke out: “Hello, Tom! where ’d 
you find yourself, hey?” 


A “ Through-ths-Fknce ” Fight. 


3i 


Before Tommy could answer, Mrs. Grady 
pushed open the door and stepped in. 

“So the boy did get back all right? I was 
sure he would,” she said; “an’ ye better b’lieve 
I give that Billy of mine a lickin’ he ’ll not for- 
get for one while, for keepin’ his mouth shut 
last night when you all was so worrited, an’ he 
knowin’ all the time where Tommy was.” 

Dick flushed angrily, and clenched his fist, 
inwardly vowing to “lick that Bill Grady within 
an inch of his life before he was many days 
older,” while Janie looked at Tommy as she 
answered : 

“We did n’t know that Billy knew anything 
about it, Mrs. Grady.” 

“An’ hain’t Tommy told ye that Billy was up 
to the Zoo with him ?” 

“’Course I didn’t,” said Tommy, loftily, his 
head proudly uplifted. “ I ain’t no tell-tale, ’n’ I 
did n’t cry one bit, — so now!” 

“So that’s what he said to ye, to keep ye 
from tellin’ on him, the little sarpent! An’ I 
overheard him tellin’ Tim about it this mornin’. 
Well, I ’in sorry, Janie; I can’t say no more,” 
and she hurried home, while Willie Barton, who 
had edged around to Tommy, whispered : 

“Say, Tommy, was you to the Zoo?” And 


32 


Nkxt-Door Neighbors. 


when Tommy nodded, he was all curiosity to 
hear all about it. 

Meantime Marianna had slipped on her cloak 
and hat, and was almost out of the door when 
Janie called her back. 

“What are you going so early for? It ’s only 
twenty minutes past eight,” she said; “and your 
dress — have you mended it?” 

“’Course I haven’t mended it,” said Marianna, 
with a scowl. “You never said a word to me 
about it last night.” 

“And did you forget it, Marianna?” asked 
Janie. 

Marianna squirmed and frowned, but made 
no answer. 

“I ’in sure you didn’t,” said Janie; “and now 
you ’ll have to wear your old play-dress to 
school.” 

At this Marianna burst into tears. “ Why, 
Janie Brown ! That horrid old thing, all spotted 
and dirty, and everything! I just will not wear 
it.” She made a movement towards the door. 
Janie stood still, and looked at her. 

“I think you’re real mean, Janie Brown. 
You try to boss me all the time,” she sobbed. 
Still Janie said nothing, and presently, pouting 
and scuffling her feet, so as to make as much 


A “ Through-the-Fence ” Fight. 33 

noise as possible, Marianna went up-stairs and 
changed her dress, leaving the one she took off 
just where it dropped on the floor. 

“Guess Miss Miller’ll think you don’t keep 
me lookin’ very neat, havin’ me wear such old 
duds as this to school,” was her parting shot as 
she slammed the door, while to herself she said : 
“She’ll have the other all mended ’fore I get 
home. I thought I ’d get out of doing it.” 

It was all mended, the house in order, and a 
hot dinner ready when the three came home at 
noon, and things went smoothly in the little 
household until Tommy came home from the 
afternoon session, and was about to follow Mari- 
anna to the vacant lots — the favorite play- 
ground of the neighborhood. 

“You can’t go, Tommy,” Janie said; “you 
must play in the house or in the yard for a 
week.” 

“ Wha’ for ?” questioned Tommy, trying hard 
to wear an air of injured innocence. 

“ You know why,” his sister answered. “ You 
know you were very bad to stay away from 
school and go off, as you did yesterday. Do n’t 
you think you deserve some punishment?” 

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, then 
changed his mind and said nothing, turning ab- 


34 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


ruptly to the window and winking hard for a 
moment. Then soft little fingers were slipped 
into his, and a soft, little voice cooed, “ Tom, 
Tom;” and Tommy, looking down into a pair of 
blue eyes brimming over with love and trust in 
him, could n’t help smiling a bit in response. 

“ Well, baby, come along out in the yard. 
We ’ll have high jinks, won’t we ?” he said. 

And with a crow of delight the baby, who, 
though he was two years old, could say but a few 
words, ran and brought his coat and hat for his 
small brother to put on for him ; andTommy put 
them on as carefully, if not quite as skillfully, as 
Janie herself could have done. Tommy was 
the baby’s prime favorite, and, with all his 
faults, he was always gentle and kind to the 
little fellow. 

For an hour the children played happily in 
the yard; then a tumult of shouts and angry 
cries called Janie hastily from her work. Run- 
ning out into the yard, she found Tommy and 
Billy Grady having a pitched battle through a 
broken board in the fence that separated the two 
yards. Billy had Tommy by the hair, and was 
punching his head vigorously, while Tommy 
was striking out wildly at his captor. The baby 
was screaming with fright, and two small 


A “ Throuhh-thk-Fknck ” Fight. 35 

Gradys, perched on the fence, were yelling and 
cheering on their brother. 

Billy let go his hold as Janie appeared, and 
she, picking up the baby, ordered Tommy into 
the house. He obeyed unwillingly enough, 
while Billy joined his small brothers on the 
fence and threw taunts and threats after his de- 
parting foe. 

“ O, Tommy ! Tommy ! why will you be so 
naughty ?” said Janie, as she wiped the baby’s 
tear-stained face. “ You know how many times 
mother has forbidden you to have anything to 
do with those Grady boys.” 

Tommy, with his hands stuffed into his pock- 
ets, shook his head angrily. “ Well, then, he 
need n’t tell me any more lies — Bill Grady 
need n’t,” he said. 

“ What lie has he told you ?” said Janie. 

“He told me yest’day that the’ wasn’t any 
school in the afternoon,” said Tommy; “ ’n’ he 
made me promise ’t I wouldn’t tell ’t; he said so, 
’n’ I would n’t ’a’ told ’f he had n’t said a lie ’bout 
it jes’ now. Said he did n’t tell me so, ’n’ he did , 
so there !” and Tommy stamped his foot, and 
cast an angry glance toward the yard, where the 
Gradys were executing a war-dance on top of 
the fence, accompanied by yells and catcalls 


36 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


of the most aggravating description. Tommy 
ground his teeth and clenched his small fists at 
the sounds. 

“ O, he told you that, did he?” said Janie. 
“ Why did n’t you tell me before, Tommy ?” 

“ I ain’t no tell-tale. Would n’t ’a’ told now 
’f he had n’t lied about it,” said Tommy. 

“ But you mustn’t promise not to tell things, 
Tommy,” Janie said ; “ you ought to tell some- 
times, you know.” 

“ Huh ! girls do n’t know ’bout some things,” 
was Tommy’s lofty reply. “ Come, Johnny, 
come an’ play battle and the three were soon 
engrossed with a battle, where the soldiers were 
empty spools and the cannon a rubber ball. 

At eight o’clock, that evening, all the chil- 
dren were in bed, and Janie sat alone, as usual 
busy with the never-empty mending-basket, 
when there came two quick raps on the door, 
followed by a rattle of the knob. With a joyful 
cry, Janie flew to the door, flung it open, and 
seizing the little woman who stood there, drew 
her bodily into the house, and had plumped her 
into the rocking-chair, and taken off her shawl 
and bonnet before giving her a chance to say a 
single word. Indeed, she had no chance then; 
for Janie’s arms were about her neck, and Janie’s 


A “ Through-thk-Fence ” Fight. 37 

head was pillowed on the little woman’s breast, 
and she was half-laughing, half-crying, as she 
sobbed out : 

“ You blessed little mamsey, you don’t begin 
to know how glad I am to get hold of you once 
more. I worried and worried , because you didn’t 
come Saturday.” 

“ There, there, dearie. Mother’s dear little 
daughter !” and Mrs. Brown kissed and cuddled 
Janie as if she had been a baby instead of a tall 
girl of fifteen. “ I wanted to come bad enough — 
never doubt that — but Mrs. Buckley was very 
bad all the week, and I could n’t get off till to- 
night. And how are you all — all well?” 

“Yes, motherdie, all well ’cept Johnny; he’s 
just the same, you know.” 

“ The poor little laddie,” sighed the mother. 
“ And have you got on all right — nothing gone 
wrong?” 

“Only Tommy;” and then Janie had to tell 
all the story of Tommy’s adventure. “ And he 
would n’t have staid away from school only for 
that bad Billy Grady. He told Tommy there 
was n’t any school, an’ Tommy believed him,” 
finished Janie, indignantly. 

“ If Tommy only would keep away from 
those bad Grady boys,” sighed the mother. 


38 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“And now, Janie, I must look at the dear lit- 
tle faces, for I can’t be long away. It takes 
more than half an hour to go back in the cars.” 

Then the two went up-stairs together, and 
Mrs. Brown looked first at Marianna, and tucked 
the bedclothes carefully about her — Marianna 
always would kick them off — and then to the 
boys’ room, and a tear, as well as a tender kiss, 
was dropped on Johnny’s pale cheek ; but a glad 
smile followed at sight of Tommy’s chubby 
cheeks and little freckled nose, cuddled down 
close beside the baby’s golden head. 

“ O, the dear hearts !” murmured the mother 
tenderly. “Janie, girl, it’s hard to be away 
from you all so. I never could do it if I did n’t 
have to. But the bread and butter must be 
earned. And Dick — where is he?” she added, 
as she trotted down the stairs. 

“Dick isn’t home much evenings, mother,” 
Janie said, with a wistful glance at the dear 
face. She did so hate to say a word that would 
bring the anxious look into the loving blue eyes. 
It crept in now as the mother asked : “ And 
you don’t know where he goes?” 

“ No, he won’t tell me,” said Janie sadly ; 
“ and I ’in afraid he smokes, mother. I found 
some cigarettes in his jacket pocket, one day 


A “ Through-thk-Fknce ” Fight. 39 

when he asked me to mend a hole in it. He’s 
coming now,” she added, as a whistle sounded 
without, and Dick came in. His mother’s arms 
were about him in an instant, and if he did not 
return all her kisses, he submitted to them with 
a good grace. Privately, Dick thought boys of 
thirteen too old to be “ kissed like babies.” 

“I mustn’t stay another minute,” said Mrs. 
Brown, with a quick glance at the little Water- 
bury clock on the mantel. “ Dick, walk with me 
to the car, won’t you ? I like to have my tall 
boy for an escort and with a good-bye kiss to 
Janie, and an injunction to work no more that 
evening, she was gone, leaving Janie, as she 
folded up her sewing, to think over every word 
the dear mother had said. 

Dick came back looking very thoughtful, but 
he said nothing and soon went up-stairs, and 
presently Janie followed, and silence and dark- 
ness fell over the little house. 


CHAPTER IV. 


DAVID SOLOMON’S FIRST RIDE. 

S PRING was close at hand now ; indeed, it 
was already spring according to the calen- 
dar, for it was the third day of March ; but the 
winter wind still nipped fingers and noses, and 
Johnny still shivered and cowered over the fire, 
and never ventured out except when Janie in- 
sisted upon it. She insisted upon it on this 
third day of March. As soon as Marianna, Dick, 
and Tommy had gone to school, Janie said, 
briskly: “Now, Johnny, I’m going to get the 
work done up just as quick as I can, and then 
I ’m going down to the factory to see if I can 
get some braiding to do. ’T was about this time 
last year that I got some there, you know, and 
I ’m going to take you and baby.” 

“I don’ know as I want to go,” said Johnny, 
with a shiver. “ I guess I ’d rather stay home.” 

“Not this time, Johnny boy,” said Janie 
cheerily. “ Baby has n’t had a walk in a long 
time, and I want to take him, and I do n’t want 
to leave you here alone ; it would be too lone- 
some. So, wash your face and hands, and 
40 


David Solomon’s First Ride. 


4 1 


brush your hair, and put on your best necktie, 
and I ’ll get through my work and have baby 
ready in a jiffy.” 

“ Go, go,” said the baby, laughing with de- 
light. 

“Yes, dear,” said Janie, “we’ll go pretty 
soon and for the next half hour the baby fol- 
lowed her from kitchen to pantry, with his little 
cloak and cap hugged up tightly in his arms, 
ready to be put on the minute his sister should 
be ready. 

“ Is n’t he just the sweetest baby that ever 
was, Johnny?” she said, when she had tied the 
little fellow’s cap over his soft, golden curls, and 
dropped a kiss on his round, rosy cheek with the 
big dimple right in the middle. But the baby, 
impatient to be off, ran to the door and began 
to rattle the knob. Rosy cheeks and dimples 
were nothing to him. 

Every step of the way down town was a de- 
light and a marvel to him, and so interested was 
he in every person or vehicle that passed, that 
he went along with his head over his shoulder 
most of the way, paying no heed whatever to 
his feet. But one little hand was fast clasped 
in Janie’s, and Johnny held the other, so the 
stumbling footsteps were safely guided. 

4 


42 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


They were a quaint little trio, as Janie pushed 
open the door of the big workroom on the third 
floor of a tall building, and led the children in. 
The superintendent, going forward to meet them, 
saw a baby in a queer, old-fashioned coat and a 
well-worn cap — both had served Tommy in his 
baby days — but from under the cap looked out a 
pair of big, innocent eyes, blue as a summer sky, 
with a fluff of golden hair, and a little round 
rosy mouth, all ready to break into a friendly 
smile. He saw, too, a little chap of eight or 
nine, who looked as if he had lived always in a 
north room and never in the sunshine, and a tall, 
slender girl, whose thoughts were so full of care 
for others that she forgot to be shy or frightened 
as she asked if he had any straw braiding to 
give out. 

Now, the superintendent had really refused 
more than one such application that day — for 
times were hard and work scarce — but something 
kept back the refusal that was on his lips as he 
looked down into Janie’s clear, trustful eyes. 
He hesitated, and asked a few questions, which 
Janie answered in her pretty, modest way. 

“ Well, we can give you a little,” he said at 
last; “but we shall not have as much to give 
out this year as usual.” 


David Solomon’s First Ride. 


43 


And so, presently, the three went down the 
long stairways, Janie carrying the big plaster 
mold by which the hats were shaped, and 
Johnny the great bundle of straw to be braided. 

“ Is n’t it nice that I got it, Johnny?” Janie 
was saying, as with one hand she carefully 
guided the baby’s footsteps and kept him from 
rolling down like a big rubber ball. “Now, I 
can buy ever so many things that we could n’t 
have had, ’cause it takes all mother’s money for 
rent an’ coal, an’ things to eat for all of us. 
Now we ’ll ride home in the cars, for I know you 
are tired ; but first, we’ll stop here a minute.” 

“Here,” was a candy-store on the corner, and 
even Johnny’s heavy eyes lighted up a little 
when Janie bought four sticks of candy. 

“Four will do,” Janie reckoned; “for Dick 
is too big to care much for candy, and, of course, 
I do n’t want any.” 

That car-ride was a wonderful experience to 
the baby, who had never had a ride before in 
his short life. Johnny slipped into the corner- 
seat, Janie sat next with the baby on the other 
side. The car, nearly empty when the children 
got in, filled rapidly, and a richly-dressed lady, 
with a fretful, discontented face, took the seat 
next the baby. He smiled at her in the friendliest 


44 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


fashion, for he took everybody for a friend ; but 
the lady only frowned, and drew her velvet-wrap 
closely about her, with a glance at his little worn 
shoes. Janie pressed up closer to Johnny, and 
drew the baby as near her side as possible; but 
as the car swung around a circle, and then sud- 
denly stopped, the unexpected stop flung the 
baby against his neighbor on the other side. 
With a look of disgust, and a low-toned remark 
about “dirty babies,” the lady arose and took a 
seat on the other side of the car. Janie’s quick 
ears had caught the words. Her face flushed, 
and the hot tears filled her eyes as she took her 
little brother in her lap, and bent her head over 
him. But baby did not want to sit, even in 
Janie’s lap, just then. He wanted to stand on the 
seat and look out of the window, and he quickly 
scrambled back to his former place, just as an- 
other lady moved up and took the next seat. 
She leaned over and smiled into Janie’s wet 
eyes, as she said : 

“Is this your little brother, my dear?” 

“Yes ’in,” said Janie. “I won’t let him 
bother you,” she added, hurriedly, trying to pull 
him back into her lap. 

“ O, let him stand there ! He does n’t bother 
me in the least. He is a dear little fellow,” said 


David Solomon’s First Ride. 


45 


lady; and, as the car rattled on, she talked to 
Janie in her sweet, low voice, asking a quiet 
question now and then, and so charming the girl 
that it was with a start that she awoke to the 
fact that the next corner was their stopping- 
place. It was the lady who lifted the baby 
down, and carried him to the car-door — for Janie 
had her big bundle in her arms — and the smile 
with which she answered the girl’s grateful 
“Thank you, ma’am,” warmed Janie’s heart, and 
lingered long in her memory. 

“O Johnny, wasn’t she just lovely!” Janie 
exclaimed, as the three walked on. “I’d like 
to be just like her when I grow up.” 

“Humph! The other one wasn’t lovely,” 
grumbled Johnny. “Calling our baby dirty!” 

“O never mind that one; let’s forget her. 
But I ’ll never forget the other one,” said Janie, 
as she unlocked the door, and dropped her heavy 
mold on the table. 


CHAPTER ¥. 


A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 

I T was about a week later that Tommy rushed 
into the house in a state of great excitement, 
exclaiming: 

“Say, Janie, the Gradys are movin’ out; an’ 
they ’re goin’ to build a new house right next 
to us.” 

“Who, the Gradys?” said Dick. 

Tommy threw a withering glance at his big 
brother, adding, as he ran out: “Jest wish ’t I 
could watch both sides at once;” for the Gradys 
lived on the left of the Browns, while the men 
were digging the cellar for the new house on the 
right. 

Marianna was already perched on a tree-box 
where she could look both ways, and inspect 
every article of furniture brought out of the Grady 
house, as well as every cartload of dirt carried 
away from the other side ; but her sharp, black 
eyes had all that they could do that morning, 
since she had also to watch out for the policeman, 
who, she knew from past experience, would order 
her down, if he saw her on top of the tree-box. 
46 


A Chapter of Accidents. 


47 


She and Tommy were both thankful that it hap- 
pened to be Saturday, so that they could see all 
that was going on. It was well that Marianna 
had on her old play-dress; for in her frequent 
ascents and descents of the tree-box, she tore 
more than one three-cornered “flitch” out of 
her dress; but little she cared for that. 

Janie breathed a sigh of relief and thankful- 
ness, as she saw the last load of goods depart, 
and knew that Tommy would have no more 
“ through-the-fence ” fights with the Grady boys. 
“And I just hope, whoever moves in there, that 
there won’t be one single boy in the family,” 
she thought to herself as she pulled a pan of 
gingerbread from the oven. It is well for us that 
our blind wishes are not always granted. Janie 
remembered that wish later; but she had not 
much leisure for wishing or thinking of anything 
outside of her own little home on Saturdays, 
with baking, sweeping, and cleaning to do. 
Even Johnny and the baby were out watching 
the dirt-wagons as they came and went, and 
Janie was hurrying to finish some of the last 
things that take so many minutes, when Johnny 
came running in with a frightened look in his 
eyes, and dragging the baby by the hand : 

“O Janie, Janie!” he cried, “Tommy’s hurt 


48 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


his nose awful, an’ Marianna says her leg ’s 
broke !” 

Janie dropped her work, and her face grew 
white as she ran out. Tommy, with his hands 
to his face, and the blood streaming through his 
fingers, was cdming towards the house with half 
a dozen small boys in attendance. He looked 
up at his sister, trying bravely to keep from 
crying, as he said : 

“You go see to Marianna, Janie. I guess 
’t w-on’t bleed much longer.” 

“Where is Marianna?” said Janie, half- wild 
with the avalanche of care and responsibility 
that seemed to have tumbled upon her in a 
moment. 

“ There she is,” called out two of the small 
boys; and Janie ran towards a crowd of men and 
children. The children made way for her, and 
two or three voices called out : 

“Here ’s your sister cornin’, Marianna.” 

Two of the men were lifting Marianna. 

“We’ll carry her into the house for you,” 
they said; and, without a word, Janie ran ahead 
to the house, while Marianna groaned and 
sobbed. 

“Sh’ll I go for a doctor?” said one of the 
boys, who had pushed in after them. 


A Chapter of Accidents. 


49 


“Yes, go for Dr. Corson, ” said poor Janie. 
“And won’t you children please go away ?” she 
added, for the small room was almost full. 

Marianna, who had been placed on the lounge, 
now fell back on the pillow with such a pale 
face, that Janie quickly sent Johnny for the 
camphor-bottle, while the baby, who had fol- 
lowed Tommy to the kitchen, catching sight of 
his blood-stained face, began to scream with 
mingled terror and sympathy. 

“O dear!” sobbed Janie; “if mother was 
only here!” 

Just then the doctor came. 

“O Doctor, I never was so glad to see you!” 
she cried, trying hard to keep her voice from 
trembling. 

“Not even when Dick broke his arm,” said 
the doctor, laughing; and then, with a kindly 
pat on her shoulder, he added : “ I guess nothing 
very serious has happened this time. Are you 
the patient, young woman?” he added to Mari- 
anna, who sobbed out: 

“ My leg ’s broke !” 

“Not a bit of it, not a bit of it,” said the doc- 
tor, in his big, cheery voice, as he deftly pulled 
off Marianna’s shoe and stocking, and felt of her 
ankle, that was already beginning to swell. 


50 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“ Like to go to school ?” he asked, with a 
twinkle in his eye, as he took a bottle from his 
case. 

“I ’d just as lief stay home,” she answered. 

“Well, you’ll have a chance to for some 
weeks to come,” said the doctor; and to Janie 
he added : “ No broken bones here, but a sprained 
ankle that will need- to have a six weeks’ rest.” 

As he spoke his practiced fingers had been 
deftly bandaging the limb, and, as he fastened 
the bandage, he said to Janie: “It’s easily at- 
tended to. I ’ll leave this bottle with you, and 
you can keep the cloths wet. That is all that 
is necessary; and, of course, she mustn’t put 
her foot to the floor at all.” 

“Well,” as Tommy came in from the kitchen, 
“you ’ve got a hospital, have n’t you? What ’s 
the matter with you, young man?” 

“Nothin’ much, ’cept I fell an’ bumped my 
nose,” said Tommy. 

“Come here,” said the doctor, carefully feel- 
ing each side of Tommy’s little freckled nose. 
“Bring me a pillow, Janie.” 

Janie ran for a pillow, and the doctor laid it 
on the big table in the kitchen. 

“Now, Tommy,” he said, “how much of a 
man are you?” 


A Chapter of Accidents. 51 

“I don’t know,” said Tommy. 

“Are you man enough not to make a fuss if 
I hurt your nose a little more ?” 

Tommy hesitated, and glanced half-appeal- 
ingly from the doctor to Janie. 

“Have you got to*?” he said. 

“I’ve got to hurt you, Tommy boy,” said 
the doctor. “If I don’t, you’ll have trouble 
by and by.” 

“All right, I won’t cry,” said Tommy. 

“No, I see you won’t. You ’ll be a man be- 
fore Janie here, if she is fifteen years old.” 

Tommy chuckled at that. “Guess I will,” 
he said, as the doctor lifted him and laid him 
on the big table. 

“ Say, Johnny, what ’s the doctor goin’ to do 
to Tommy?” whispered Marianna. “ I wish ’t 
I could see.” 

“Should n’t think you ’d want ter; I do n’t,” 
said poor Johnny, whose weak nerves had been 
sadly tried by the double accident, and he softly 
closed the kitchen-door lest he might hear 
Tommy scream. But Tommy did n’t. 

“You ’re a brave little chap, I ’ll say that for 
you, Tommy,” the doctor said, when the poor 
little nose was set and bandaged. “It was 
broken,” he added to Janie. “It was lucky for 


52 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Tommy that I happened to be here, or his nose 
would never have been straight again. Where ’s 
your mother, now?” 

“ She ’s nursing at Mrs. Buckley’s,” said Janie. 
“I wish she was home.” 

“I reckon you do, child,” said the doctor, 
kindly; “but your patients are all right now. 
Better keep Tommy at home for two or three 
weeks. I ’ll be in and see him in a day or so.” 

Janie drew a long breath as the doctor de- 
parted, and she began to realize what an addi- 
tion to her cares all this meant. Tommy was 
a dear, brave little fellow, and just now both he 
and Marianna were quiet enough ; but to have 
them both at home to be waited on and amused 
for weeks, Janie knew what that meant. 

“But never mind,” she said to herself the 
next moment; “it might have been so much 
worse; and now that it ’s over — the worst of it — 
I ’m glad mother doesn’t know, ’cause it would 
be so hard for her not to be home.” 

“ Well, what ’s the matter ? Been having a 
free fight here?” cried Dick, coming in a few 
minutes later. 

“Tommy broke his nose, an’ I broke my leg — 
sprained it, I mean,” piped up Marianna; “an’ 
the doctor says I can’t go to school for six weeks.” 


A Chapter of Accidents. 


53 


“ ’N’ I can’t for three weeks, an’ I ’m glad,” 
put in Tommy. 

“ Hard on Janie ; but how did it all happen ?” 
said Dick. 

Janie left the children to tell the story, while 
she set the table for supper — a meal which Mari- 
anna enjoyed immensely — because it had to be 
carried to her. Dick offered to wipe the dishes 
for Janie that evening. He did not often make 
any such offer, and he had just taken off one of 
his sister’s big aprons when Aunt Sarah ap- 
peared. 

Aunt Sarah was tall and thin, with sharp 
black eyes, not unlike Marianna’s. Her hair was 
gray, and instead of parting it in the middle, she 
made a parting at each side, and combed the 
middle part straight back. Aunt Sarah never 
laughed ; at least the Brown children had never 
known her to laugh, and even her smiles were 
of the rarest. 

“ Well ! well ! what ’s the matter here, I should 
like to know?” she exclaimed, looking from Ma- 
rianna’s bandaged leg to Tommy’s bandaged 
nose. “A sprained ankle and a broken nose,” 
she repeated after Janie; “and how did all this 
happen?” 

“They were right out in front of the house,” 


54 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


explained Janie, “and the men were carting off 
the dirt where they ’re going to build right next 
us, and one of the men asked Tommy if he 
did n’t want a ride, and the horse started just as 
Tommy was climbing up on the cart, and he 
slipped and fell, and hit his face on the shaft.” 

“Um!” commented Aunt Sarah, grimly ; “ and 
Marianna’s ankle? Did she tumble off a dirt- 
man’s cart too?” 

“N-no,” said Janie,” reluctantly, knowing 
full well what Aunt Sarah would think about 
Marianna. “She was — was sitting on the tree- 
box watching the wagons, and she went to get 
down quickly, and fell and sprained her ankle.” 

Janie did not add, as she might have done, 
that her sister was hastening down that she 
might ride with Tommy on the dirt-cart. 

Aunt Sarah’s face took on its most severe 
and disapproving expression. 

“It’s just what I always told your mother,” 
she remarked when she had heard all about the 
accidents. “I knew all sorts of dreadful things 
would happen if she left a parcel of children to 
take care of themselves. Now I hope she ’ll 
acknowledge I was right.” And Aunt Sarah 
smoothed out the folds of her handsome dress, 
and pulled her cloak away from the baby, who 


A Chapter of Accidents. 


55 


was gently patting the fur trimming and “poor- 
ing” it. 

“But, Aunt Sarah, mother would be home if 
she could, yon know. She has to earn money 
some way,” ventured Janie, the indignant color 
flushing her cheeks. 

“ She could do sewing or something at 
home,” replied Aunt Sarah, “as other women 
do.” 

“But, Aunt Sarah, you know her eyes got so 
bad when she did that,” said Janie, while Dick 
muttered something under his breath about 
liking to punch some one’s head. 

“And there’s Dick,” went on Aunt Sarah; 
“a great boy like him ought to be working and 
earning his own living. I think he ’s had school- 
ing enough.” Dick scowled and ground his heel 
viciously into the carpet, but he said nothing. 

When, after an hour’s stay, Aunt Sarah de- 
parted, Janie felt far more worn and fretted than 
she had felt before that day, while Dick growled 
angrily: “I wish she’d stay at home, old cat!” 

“ Who ’s an old cat — Aunt Sarah?” said Ma- 
rianna, catching only the last words. “She’s 
too hateful for anything! An’ she told me she ’s 
cornin’ every day now, to see ’t we do n’t get into 
more trouble.” 


56 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Janie sighed. In her heart she felt like echo- 
ing all that had been said ; but she knew that 
that would not do, so she said only: “We ought 
not to talk so about her. She means to be kind.” 

“Don’t, neither,” muttered Marianna defi- 
antly, while Dick added: “She thinks ’cause 
Uncle John^s got a big shop, ’n’ they live in a 
fine house, ’t she c’n boss us ’n’ find fault with 
mother, ’n’ everything. I ’ll show her yet!” 

What he would show her Dick did not say ; 
but he was thoughtful and rather quiet all the 
evening. He did not go out except to do an 
errand lor Janie, and for that she was thankful ; 
for, good sister that she was, she counted every 
evening that Dick spent at home as so much 
clear gain. 

There was one more happening at the Brown 
house that night; but this was one that flushed 
tired Janie’s cheeks with pleasure, and filled her 
heart with gratitude. A man came, bringing a 
big, big basket, and to the eager eyes of the 
children it seemed as if Santa Claus himself 
must have packed that basket; for the man took 
out of it a turkey stuffed and roasted, a dish of 
sweet potatoes, two mince-pies, an apple-pie, a 
loaf of frosted cake, and a bag of great, juicy 
oranges. Was it Aunt Sarah who sent them? 


A Chapter of Accidents. 


57 


No, indeed! It was big-hearted Dr. Corson, 
who had gone home and told his equally big- 
hearted wife about patient, hard-working Janie 
and her small hospital. So Janie’s last thought 
that night was: “What good, good people there 
are in the world, after all!” 


5 


CHAPTER YI. 


A NEW FAMILY. 

I N the days that followed, Janie felt sometimes 
as if she would like to go off to a real hos- 
pital herself, and lie on a cot in a quiet ward 
to be taken care of for awhile. Either Mari- 
anna or Tommy on the sick-list, and obliged to 
stay in the house, would have been a big addi- 
tion to her cares; but to have them both at 
once, and both suffering just enough to make 
them cross and fretful, and yet not enough to 
keep them quiet in bed — that was hard lines for 
Janie. 

Aunt Sarah’s daily visits were a trial, too; 
for she always said something that worried 
Janie and irritated Dick and Marianna. Janie 
was thankful that the walls of the new house 
were beginning to go up, and the children could 
find some amusement in watching the workmen; 
but still she was often at her wits’ end to con- 
trive new plays to keep them quiet and amused. 
If she left them to their own devices, a quarrel 
between the two invalids was pretty sure to 
follow. 

58 


A New Family. 


59 


They had had such a quarrel one morning, 
and Marianna was sulking on the lounge, while 
Tommy, with his hands in his pockets, stood 
gazing moodily out of the window. 

“Say, Marianna,” he remarked suddenly, 
“there’s a woman with a broom and a pail gone 
into the Gradys’ house.” 

“Don’t believe it,” snapped Marianna. 

“Well, you need n’t to believe it if you do n’t 
want to; but she did,” persisted Tommy. 

“ Do n’t believe it — do n’t believe it,” repeated 
Marianna, in her most tantalizing manner. 

“You’re just nothing but an old don’t-be- 
liever — so there, Ann Brown,” shouted Tommy 
angrily, looking at his sister as if he longed to 
fly at her. 

“Don’t believe it — don’t believe it — don’t 
believe it,” chanted Marianna, in a singsong 
intended to make Tommy furious — as it did. 
He marched over to the lounge, his eyes blazing 
as he cried: “If you were a boy, I ’d lick you, if 
you have got a sprained ankle.” 

“Don’t believe it — do n’t believe it — don’t 
believe it,” taunted Marianna, determined to 
“pay Tommy back” for calling her Ann. 

The taunting words, the mocking eyes, and 
the ugly “face” that Marianna “made up” were 


6o 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


too much for Tommy. He sprang at his sister 
with his arm raised to strike her. Marianna 
never flinched, but the blow did not fall. Janie 
coming in from another room, ran forward and 
caught the little clenched hand and held it 
fast. 

“O, Tommy, Tommy!” she said, sadly. 

“Well, I don’t care! She’s too mean for 
anything,” said Tommy. 

“I know she was hateful and aggravating, 
Tommy; but boys who are going to grow up to 
be good men never strike girls, no matter how 
aggravating they are,” said Janie. 

“ Huh !” said Tommy, going back to the win- 
dow and turning his back on Marianna. 

“Say, Johnny,” he said presently, carefully 
ignoring Marianna this time, “they ’s paper men 
and painters coming to the Gradys now.” 

“Don’t be — ,” began Marianna, but Janie 
said quickly : “ Marianna, you ’ll have to go up- 
stairs if you do n’t stop that and Marianna 
subsided into quiet. 

In a few days the Grady house, as the Brown 
children still called it, cleaned and freshened 
with paint and paper, looked like another place. 
Janie, peeping into the lower windows, one day 
after the workmen had gone, wished longingly 


A Nkw Family. 


6i 


that their rooms could be put in such fresh, at- 
tractive shape. 

“And I do hope nice people will come there 
to live — and no boys,” she said to herself once 
more. 

“O, here comes the furniture for the Grady 
house,” shouted Tommy, the very next day, and 
Marianna hopped on one foot to the rocking- 
chair by the window. 

“They ’ve got better things than the Gradys’ 
old duds?” she commented. “ Better ’n ours, 
too — lots better! ’n’ two whole loads of ’em.” 

“I wonder if they’ve got any children! / 
hope they ’ve got some boys — nice ones; not like 
Bill and Tim Grady,” remarked Tommy. 

“/don’t want any more old boys to come,” 
said Marianna. “I hope there’ll be some nice 
girls, ’bout as old as I am.” 

“Huh!” said Tommy; “there’s girls ’nough 
on this block a’ready.” 

“There’s boys enough,” said Marianna. 
“ Here ’s four boys right in this very house, ’n’ 
only two girls. I should think you ’d boys 
enough to play with, Tommy Brown, with three 
of your own brothers.” 

Tommy looked at Johnny and the baby. 

“ The baby ’ll be tiptop when he ’s big ’nough 


62 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


’n’ gets pants on,” he remarked; “but Dick — he 
thinks he ’s too big to play with fellers my size ; 
’n’ Johnny — Johnny’s more ’n half a girl.” 

“ I ain’t, neither,” flashed out Johnny indig- 
nantly. “I’m just as much a boy as you are, 
Tommy Brown.” 

Tommy looked surprised and a trifle uncom- 
fortable. It was a rare thing for Johnny to get 
angry. 

“O, well, I did n’t mean nothin’, Johnny,” he 
said ; “only you ’re so kind o’ still an’ — an’ gtrly ) 
you know.” 

But this did not help matters at all. 

“I’m no more girly than you are; am I 
Janie?” said Johnny hotly. 

Janie smiled at him as she said: “When 
Johnny gets strong and well like you, Tommy, 
he ’ll like to be out with the boys just as you 
do. You ’ll find then he ’s as much of a boy as 
you or Dick.” 

Johnny smiled contentedly and said no more, 
while Tom^iy gazed at him reflectively, won- 
dering how it would seem to have Johnny well 
and strong. 

“O, here come the folks. Book, Janie !” cried 
Marianna, craning her neck to peer over the 
baby’s head. 


A Nkw Family. 


63 


“O, children, do come away from the win- 
dow. They ’ll see you peeking at ’em,” said 
Janie, in a distressed tone. 

“Well, what if they do?” said Marianna. “I 
saw a sick lady, an’ a girl, an’ a big boy go in. 
I guess the lady was sick, ’cause the boy was 
helpin’ her along.” 

“ ’T was a big boy, bigger ’n Dick,” said 
Tommy, in a disappointed voice. 

“The girl was big, too — ’most as big as Janie,” 
added Marianna. “Don’t you wonder what 
their name is, Tommy?” 

“No, I don’t,” said Tommy. 

“I guess their name ’s Thomson,” said Mari- 
anna, glancing at Tommy out of the corner of 
her eye. “ I ’m sure ’t is,” she added, positively. 

“You don’t know anything about it, Mari- 
anna Brown,” said Tommy. “You don’t know 
any more ’n I do.” 

“Yes I do. I knowi t ’s Thomson,” said Ma- 
rianna, in her most positive manner. 

“’T ain’t,” said Tommy. 

“ ’T is,” retorted Marianna; and a fresh quar- 
rel would have followed, but Janie prevented it 
again. 

“You make me think of a pair of katydids,” 
she said, laughing. 


6 4 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“Katydids — what are they?” asked Tommy, 
curiously. 

“They ’re little green insects, that call to each 
other summer nights, sometimes all night long. 
One cries ‘katy did’ from one tree, and another 
from another tree answers ‘katy didn’t,’ and so 
they keep up the quarrel for hours. 

“Do they, truly, Janie?” asked Johnny, 
eagerly. 

“Yes, truly; and they make themselves look 
just like the leaves they ’re on,” said Janie. 

“Why, how can they?” questioned Johnny. 

“ I do n’t know how they can, but they do. I 
read about them in a book once.” 

“O say, Janie, the girl from the Grady house 
is coming here now,” broke in Marianna, and 
Janie ran to open the door as there came a gen- 
tle rap. She looked with eager interest at the 
girl who stood there — a girl about her own age, 
but smaller. 

“ I am Helen Morris, one of your new neigh- 
bors,” the girl said, with a smile, “ and I have 
come to ask a favor of you, already. Our stove 
is n’t in working order yet, and I want to make 
mamma a cup of tea — she is sick, you see. Can 
I get some boiling water here without troubling 
you too much?” 


A New Family. 


65 


“Yes, indeed,” said Janie promptly, with a 
shy glance at Helen’s pretty dress; “and you 
need n’t come for it. I ’ll bring it to you as soon 
as it boils.” 

With a cordial word of thanks, Helen ran 
back, leaving Janie gazing wistfully after her. 
“Such a nice girl,” she said, as she shut the 
door. “I’m sure they’re nice people, and not 
a bit like the Gradys. How glad mother ’ll be 
for us to have such neighbors!” 

“She’s a real pretty girl — lots prettier ’n 
Janie,” remarked Marianna, with her eyes fixed 
on the ceiling, Janie having gone to the kitchen 
to put on the tea-kettle. 

“She ain’t prettier ’11 Janie, neither,” pro- 
tested Johnny, indignantly. 

“You don’t know. You couldn’t see her 
away off there where you ’re sitting,” said Ma- 
rianna, provokingly. 

“Don’t care ’f I couldn’t; guess I know. 
Ain’t any girl prettier ’n our Janie,” said loyal 
little Johnny. 

“Ho! ho! that’s all you know. Boys know 
awful little anyhow,” remarked Marianna, still 
with her eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

“ Well, their name isn’t Thomson, so now! 
It ’s Morris — I heard her say so,” put in Tommy. 


66 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Then turning his back on his sister, he added : 
“Come on, Johnny; let’s play battle, ’n’ not let 
Marianna play.” 

When Janie carried the boiling water to the 
next door, the same young girl answered her 
rap. “Will you come in?” she said, holding 
wide the door; but Janie drew back shyly. 

“Another time,” she answered; but her one 
quick glance had shown her a lady with a worn, 
sweet face, lying on a lounge, and a tall boy nail- 
ing down a carpet. Janie had a new glad feeling 
in her heart as she went back home, and a faint 
hope awoke within her — a hope that, even into 
her busy, care-full life, there might be coming 
some experience of the happy friendships that 
other girls of her age have. For some days, 
however, she saw nothing of the new neighbors 
except an occasional glimpse of the boy or his 
sister as they went in or out, but she felt hap- 
pier all the same for knowing that they were 
there; and once she had a bow and a bright 
smile from Helen. Then came a week of bad 
weather. Day after day it rained steadily, and 
Janie found it harder than ever to keep the 
peace among her little brood. Marianna’s 
sprained ankle was so much better now, that it 
was difficult to keep her from using it in spite of 


A Nkw Family. 


67 


the doctor’s orders; and Tommy’s small nose 
was so nearly well that the bandages were to 
be taken off at the end of the week. On the 
fifth day of the storm, Janie banished the chil- 
dren to the upper rooms after dinner. 

“ I must get my braiding done,” she said. “ It 
ought to have been finished yesterday, and you 
must play as quietly as you can up-stairs. Ma- 
rianna, do be good and try not to have any fuss 
with the boys.” 

“ I ’ll be good if Tommy will,” said Marianna. 
“If he is n’t — ” and with a wicked glance at her 
small brother, she limped up the stairs. For a 
while shouts and laughter and various queer 
noises from above indicated that the children 
were playing “Zoo,” which had been one of 
Tommy’s favorite amusements since his visit 
there ; but, after a time, silence succeeded, and 
Janie wondered what could be keeping the four 
so quiet. She was about to go up-stairs and in- 
vestigate, when the children came down clam- 
oring for supper. 

“What have you been doing all the after- 
noon?” she asked, as they gathered about the 
table. 

“O — playin’,” replied Tommy, with his 
mouth full. 


68 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“Playin’ Zoo,” added Mariana; “an’ I was the 
kangaroo, ’cause I have to hop anyhow.” 

“An’ Tommy was the sea-lion, an’ caught 
fishes in his mouth. Marianna threw the fishes,” 
put in Johnny. 

“Did you play Zoo all the time?” asked 
Janie. 

Tommy and Marianna looked at each other, 
while Johnny answered, “No, not all the time;” 
but none of them seemed inclined to tell any- 
thing more. The mystery was explained the 
next day when Helen Morris came in. 

“I tried to run between the drops, but I 
didn’t succeed in dodging them all,” she said, 
laughingly, as Janie took her dripping water- 
proof to the kitchen. “I’ve been hoping you 
would come in and see us,” she went on, as she 
took the seat that Janie pulled forward for her, 
“ and I ’ve been just aching to get hold of that 
baby.” She held out her hands to the baby, 
who went to her without hesitation, and was at 
once lifted to her lap. “And now,” she went 
on, with a bright glance around the little circle : 
“I want to get acquainted with you all. Why, 
I don’t know one of your names, not even your 
last name.” 

“ It ’s Brown, ’n I ’in Tommy,” remarked that 


A New Famiey. 


69 


young gentleman, who was never troubled with 
shyness. 

“An’ I’m Marianna, ’n he’s Johnnie, an’ 
that’s Janie,” broke in Marianna, pointing to 
each one in turn. 

“Tommy, and Marianna, and Johnny, and 
Janie,” repeated Helen, with a little friendly 
nod to each one as she spoke; “and now I know 
all the names except this dear baby’s.” 

Janie smiled as she answered: “We almost 
forget that he has any name except baby, for 
we always call him that. His name is David 
Solomon.” 

“ David Solomon ! Well, if that is n’t a big 
name for a small boy! Young man, you ’ll have 
to be very wise if you live up to your name,” 
she laughed, cuddling the baby lovingly. 

“ He was named for father’s two brothers,” 
explained Janie. “Dick was named for father, 
and Tommy and Johnny for our two grand- 
fathers.” 

“ Dick — O, he ’s the big boy I ’ve seen once 
or twice, I suppose,” said Helen. “You are 
rich, Janie, to have so many brothers and a sis- 
ter. I’ve only one brother; but I think he’s 
just the nicest brother in all the world.” 

A half hour of merry chatter followed ; and 


70 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


then, as she rose to go, Helen said: “I came 
near forgetting what I came for — I mean my 
special errand to-day. I came to ask you, Janie, 
if you will take lunch with us to-morrow — with 
just mamma and me, you know. My brother 
Bert does n’t come home at noon, so we have 
dinner at night instead of supper; but mamma 
wants to know all of you, and wants to begin 
with Janie. You will come, won’t you?” 

“I ’d love to,” said Janie, with shining eyes. 
“What time will it be?” 

“One o’clock, if that will be convenient for 
you,” said Helen; then, with her hand on the 
door-knob, she turned back, with a laugh in her 
eyes. “O, I forgot my other errand,” she said, 
glancing at the children, though she spoke to 
Janie. “Mother wanted me to ask if you would 
be so kind as to take the tomato-cans off the 
shutters next our window. You see, she does n’t 
sleep well at all, and last night the wind rat- 
tled the cans so that she could hardly sleep 
at all.” 

“Cans?” repeated Janie, with a bewildered 
look. “Why, I didn’t know there were any on 
the shutters.” , 

Tommy and Marianna looked at each other 
and giggled, while Johnny’s face grew red. 


A Nkw Family. 


7i 


“What is it, children?” Janie said. “Have 
you been hanging cans on the windows ?” 

“It was yesterday, we played ’twas a chime 
of bells like the big church on Fifteenth Street 
has,” explained Marianna. 

“O, that was it. I wondered what the play 
was,” said Helen, while Janie said quickly, “ I 
did n’t know anything about it. They shall be 
taken down right away. I am so sorry that 
your mother was disturbed by them.” 

“ O, that’s all right,” said Helen. “She 
knew it was just some play of the little folks; 
and it’s real kind of you not to. mind our com- 
plaining — but I really must run home this min- 
ute, for mamma is all alone.” 

After Helen had gone, Janie’s pleasant an- 
ticipations began to be dimmed by various 
thoughts that came to her. In the first place, 
“ lunch ” was an unknown meal to her — that is, 
such a luncheon as this to which she was invited. 
She was afraid that she might not know how to 
behave ; and then, about her dress ! Her one 
best dress was almost shabby, and had never 
been pretty like Helen’s. And there were the 
children. If she left them alone they were al- 
most sure to get into trouble one way or another. 
By bed-time Janie quite regretted that she had 


72 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


accepted the invitation, and had more than half 
a mind to send Helen word that she could not 
go. But Dick laughed at her fears and fancies 
when she spoke to him about it. 

“ The youngsters will get along well enough,” 
he said; “and if they should pull the house 
down, you ’ll be close by to pick up the pieces.” 

So, with a sigh of relief and half of regret, 
Janie gave up all thought of refusing this first 
invitation. 


CHAPTER YII 


JANIE GOES OUT TO LUNCH. 

EL the children were immensely interested 



Cl in Janie’s luncheon, and had no objection 
whatever to having their own midday meal at 
the early hour of eleven, so that Janie might 
have ample time to wash the dishes and put the 
kitchen in order before dressing for her outing, 
though Marianna stipulated that they should 
each be allowed a cookie at noon, “ ’cause we’ll 
be hungry again by that time.” 

They all gazed admiringly at Janie when she 
came down-stairs — all except the baby. He, just 
awakening to a suspicion that his dear, big sis- 
ter was going out without him, kept fast hold of 
her skirts, and refused even Tommy’s most al- 
luring suggestions. 

“You look real nice, Janie,” said Marianna, 
in an unwonted burst of generosity; “an’ I hope 
you ’ll have a splendid time. Your dress is kind 
o’ short, though, ain’t it?” 

“Yes,” said Janie, with an uncomfortable 
glance at her feet. “ It ’s so long since I ’ve worn 
it, and I ’ve grown tall lately. Now, baby,” she 


6 


73 


74 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


added, kissing the small fingers as she unclasped 
them from her dress, “ you play with Tommy, and 
sister will be back before long. And Marianna 
— you are the oldest — you must take the best 
possible care of him. I know Johnny will be 
good, and you will, too, won’t you, Tommy ?” 

“I reckon,” said Tommy, briefly. 

“You’d better hurry up, Janie,” said Mari- 
anna; “it’s ’most one now.” 

Helen was watching at the window, and 
threw open the door with a cordial greeting 
without waiting for her guest to rap, and had 
drawn her over to the lounge, and introduced 
her to her mother, and seated her in a low 
rocker, before Janie had time to be shy. Helen 
was a real little chatterbox in her pretty, lady- 
like way, and did the talking for both, until 
Janie forgot that she was with strangers, and 
found herself listening and answering as freely 
as if she were at home. But her tongue was si- 
lenced, and her eyes opened wide with surprise 
and pleasure as she took her seat opposite Helen 
at the little round table drawn close to Mrs. 
Morris’s couch. 

In all the fifteen years of her life, Janie had 
never eaten a meal away from home except once, 
when Aunt Sarah had invited the whole family to 


Janie Goes Out to Lunch. 75 

her house on Thanksgiving. Uncle John was not 
fond of children, and the invitation had never 
been repeated; but even Aunt Sarah’s table, well 
furnished and bountifully spread though it was, 
had not impressed Janie as did this. 

Such a pretty cloth, satin smooth and with 
clover-leaves scattered irregularly over its shin- 
ing surface, and big, square napkins to match ; 
dishes of plain white, but so thin and of pretty 
shapes, and on the side near Janie a glass-bowl 
of pink and white carnations. One big, sweet- 
scented blossom lay on her napkin. Helen’s had 
one like it, but Mrs. Morris had a pure white 
one. It was a very simple little meal; but to 
Janie, whose one effort in regard to the home 
table was to have food enough and to keep the 
table-cloth fairly clean, this exquisitely dainty 
little table was a revelation. 

And Helen’s mother, with her pale, refined 
face and gentle, motherly ways, and even the 
pretty gray wrapper she wore, seemed to Janie 
just to match the table. It was all so sweet 
and restful to this girl, who never had had any 
“outings.” She enjoyed it intensely, and looked 
up with a start of surprise when the clock struck 
three. 

“O, I had no idea it was so late !” she said, 


y6 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


frankly. “ I ’ve been having such a lovely time ; 
but I must go now, for the children are alone.” 

Mrs. Morris drew her down and kissed her as 
she said: “You have not enjoyed being here a 
bit more than we have enjoyed having you, my 
child, and you must come as often as you can ; 
for I do n’t want Helen to be lonely.” 

And Helen added, in her bright way : “ I 
mean to be very neighborly, Janie. I give you 
fair warning that I expect you to share all those 
brothers of yours with me, and especially Tommy 
and Davie.” 

“ Davie ?” said Janie, inquiringly, and then 
she laughed. “Why, you mean the baby, of 
course. I could n’t think for a moment who 
Davie was.” 

“ Is n’t she a dear girl, mamma?” Helen said, 
as she closed the door after her guest, and settled 
down on a hassock at her mother’s feet to “talk 
it over,” as she always did all her happenings. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Morris, “she seems to be a 
very nice girl; but one who has too heavy cares 
for a girl of fifteen.” 

“ I should think so,” said Helen. “ Fancy me, 
mamma, keeping house for a family of six, and 
four of them boys ; doing all the cooking and 
cleaning and mending — every single thing except 


Janie Goes Out to Lunch. 77 

the washing ; and she does n’t seem to think any- 
thing about it. And to see her mother only three 
or four times a month — that ’s what I could n’t 
stand,” and Helen patted her mother’s thin 
hand lovingly. 

“Poor people have to stand all sorts of hard 
things,” the mother answered. “It must be 
hard for them — the Browns, I mean — to live, if 
they have nothing but what the mother earns.” 

“Dick, the oldest boy, has a paper route,” 
Janie said; “so he must be earning something. 
But, O mamma, I do want to bring that dear 
dumb baby in for you to see. David Solomon — 
just fancy a two-year-old with a name like that.” 

“Not really dumb, is he, daughter?” said Mrs. 
Morris. 

“O no ; he says a few words, but he won’t try 
to talk. Is n’t it queer, when there are so many 
children in the house ? But he ’s just as dear 
as Janie herself, and his face is lovely — a real 
cherub face. None of the others are pretty. I 
felt so sorry for Janie — about her dress, I mean. 
It was so short, and not a bit pretty, you know.” 

“ Yes, daughter, we must try to find some 
way to help her,” said Mrs. Morris. “She was 
very neat, and her hair was so smooth and so 
nicely braided. I am sure that you can be a help 


78 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


to her, Helen ; and you must be on the watch 
for opportunities.” 

“O, I forgot to give her the basket for the 
children,” said Helen, regretfully. “ I ’ll give it 
to her now through the window. It is a good 
way to start our neighborly telephone.” 

Meantime Janie, running home with a bright 
face and a happy heart, was met at the door by 
Johnny, with the announcement, “ Marianna ’s 
been just as hateful ’s she could be. She slapped 
the baby, ’n’ scolded me, ’n’ pushed Tommy 
’most down-stairs.” 

All the brightness faded from Janie’s face as 
she looked at Marianna rocking defiantly back 
and forth by the window ; at Johnny’s clouded 
face, as he threw himself on the lounge; and at 
the tear-streaked cheeks of the baby, who ran 
to meet her with a half-eaten cookie in his hand. 
As she dropped into a chair, the little fellow 
clambered into her lap, and, with a sigh of con- 
tentment, cuddled down in her arms. 

“ O Marianna, I did hope that you would be 
good, and not get into any fuss for once,” said 
Janie, reproachfully. 

“ ’T was n’t all me,” protested Marianna. 
‘‘You always blame everything on me, Janie 
Brown; ’n’ Tommy he quarrels, ’n’ Johnny he 


Janie Goes Out to Lunch. 


79 


snivels ,” with a withering glance at Johnny’s 
wet lashes, “ ’n’ the baby he fusses always when 
you’re gone. I can’t keep ’um all behavin’.” 

“ But what was the trouble this time, Mari- 
anna?” 

“Why, we was playin’ queen. I was Queen 
Victoria, ’n’ Johnny was my prime minister, ’n’ 
Tommy was my general — the highest general in 
the army — ’n’ he would n’t walk away from me 
backwards, ’n’ you know they have to in real 
courts. They can’t turn their backs to the 
queen — our teacher said so one day in school; ’n’ 
Tommy, he would turn his back every time, ’n’ 
the baby would, too; ’n’ Johnny, he just laughed, 
’n’ would n’t play worth a cent. I think boys 
are horrid anyhow,” finished Marianna, in a 
tone of disgust. 

“ ’N’ / think — ” began Tommy ; but just then 
came a tap, tap, tapping at the window. Janie 
opened it, and there was Helen with a yardstick 
in her hand. 

“Wait a minute, Janie,” she cried, as she 
slipped a basket on the end of the stick, and 
carefully balancing it, passed it along to the 
other window. 

“It’s for the children,” she explained. “I 
forgot to give it to you.” And as Janie took 


8o 


Nkxt-Door Neighbors. 


the basket, Helen withdrew the yardstick, and 
shut the window to cut short Janie’s thanks. 

“O my, ain’t that nice ! Say, Janie, are these 
what you had to eat in there?” cried Marianna, 
her frowns vanishing as she peeped into the 
basket, and saw there tiny three-cornered ham- 
sandwiches, cunning little round biscuits, pink 
frosted cakes, and pink-and-white candies. “ My !” 
she added ; “ ’t is n’t much like the Gradys, 
is it?” 

This unexpected treat banished the clouds 
from all the small faces, and made of the usu- 
ally plain meal a veritable feast. Dick’s was the 
only face that was not bright, as the six gath- 
ered about the supper-table. He seemed grave 
and preoccupied, and Janie glanced at him 
several times with a questioning look in her 
eyes. He went out right after supper, and it 
was nine o’clock when he returned. He did not 
wait for his sister to question him then, but be- 
gan abruptly: “Janie, I ’m not going to school 
any more.” 

“ Not going to school,” she repeated. “ Why 
not, Dick?” 

“ ’Cause I ’m goin’ to work. I ain’t goin’ to 
have Aunt Sarah twittin’ me again ’bout lettin’ 
mother support me,” said Dick. 


Janik Gobs Out to Lunch. 


8i 


“O, but Dick, you know Aunt Sarah is al- 
ways saying things like that, and you know how 
anxious mother is to keep you at school as long 
as she can. You must not think of leaving at 
present.” 

“ But I have left already. There’s my books,” 
and Dick pointed to his school-bag on the floor 
in a dark corner of the room. “ I ’ve left school, 
and I ’ve got a place, too,” he added. 

“ But you ’ve not done right, Dick. You 
ought not to have left school or taken any place 
without talking to mother about it.” 

“ I ’ve done it anyhow,” repeated Dick, 
moodily; “ ’n’ I guess mother ’ll be glad of four 
dollars a week. That ’ll more than pay the 
rent.” 

“ Four dollars a week?” and Janie looked up 
in surprise. “Where is the place, Dick?” 

“ In Averil’s store,” answered Dick, without 
looking up. 

Janie’s face was very grave. “ O Dick, I ’in 
sure mother won’t be willing for you to stay 
there, not even if you do get four dollars a week. 
You know she never wanted you to go there at 
all, because they sell beer and cider.” 

“ O yes,” said Dick, angrily ; “ that ’s just 
the way with girls and women. They think a 


82 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


feller can’t be where there ’s anything crooked 
goin’ on without havin’ a hand in it. I guess 
there ain’t much danger of me drinking beer an’ 
cider.” 

“ But, Dick, do you want to sell them to other 
boys, and help make them drunkards, perhaps?” 

“O bosh !” and Dick started up with an angry 
flush on his cheek. “ That ’s a great way to 
talk. I should think you ’d be glad to have 
your brother try to help support the family; an’ 
instead of that, here you are pitchin’ into me ’s 
if I was a murderer or somethin’.” 

And without any “ good-night,” Dick lit his 
lamp and went up-stairs to bed, but not to sleep. 
Healthy, tired boy as he was, he tossed for hours 
on his pillow, trying to silence his conscience that 
told him that his sister was right, and that his 
mother would think just as Janie did about this 
thing. 

And his mother did. When next she could 
be spared from her patient to visit her little 
flock, she heard with dismay of Dick’s new 
work. The boy was not yet fourteen, and Mr. 
Averil, though angry enough about it, could not 
hold him to his engagement against his mother’s 
positive refusal to have him there, so Dick had 
to give up his place and go back to school ; but he 


Janie Goes Out to Lunch. 


83 


was sullen and defiant about it, took no inter- 
est in his school- work or in home affairs, and 
kept Janie in continual anxiety by frequent hints 
and threats about running away and earning his 
own living. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


BERT LENDS A HAND. 

M ANY an evening in the weeks that followed, 
Janie, sitting alone with her mending or 
her straw-braiding, after the children were in 
bed — for Dick seldom now staid at home with 
her — would wonder what they were doing in the 
Morrises’, and wish that she could look through 
the partition, and catch a glimpse of the bright 
little parlor with its home circle of three. 

Occasionally Helen, finding that Janie’s even- 
ings were lonely, would come in and sit with 
her for an hour or two; but as Bert was away 
all day, his sister did not like to run off very 
often in the evening when he was at home. 

He was reading aloud to his mother one night, 
when Helen came back from one of these neigh- 
borly calls on Janie. Bert laid aside his book 
as his sister entered. 

“ Well, little girl, you look kind of dismal, 
’seems to me. What ’s the matter?” 

“It’s Dick — Dick Brown — you know,” said 
Helen, perching on the arm of the big chair 

in which her brother was sitting. “ I am so 
84 


Bert Lends a Hand. 


85 


sorry for Janie. I saw she looked worried when 
I went in, and I coaxed her to tell me what was 
the matter. It seems that Dick wants to leave 
school, and go to work to help his mother. 
That ’s all right, of course, for him to feel that 
way; but Janie says he got a place a few weeks 
ago in a grocery-store where they sell beer and 
cider, and I guess other drinks sometimes, and 
Mrs. Brown would n’t let him stay there. She 
wants him to go to school a year or two longer, 
and Dick, Janie says, was dreadfully angry 
about it, and won’t study at school, and threat- 
ens to run away and earn his own living, and 
she ’s so afraid he will.” 

“The little cub!” said Bert. “He ought to 
be ashamed of himself to nag at his sister and 
torment her. I should think that poor little 
girl had her hands full enough without his trou- 
bling her.” 

“ But if the boy is so unhappy and discon- 
tented and will not study, it is useless to try to 
keep him at school,” said Mrs. Morris. “ If he 
were my boy, I should try to find him a good 
place and let him go to work. It would be much 
better than to have him run away.” 

“Yes, that’s what Janie thinks,” said Helen. 
“But she says that it is so hard to find a good 


86 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


place for a boy where he ’ll get any pay — and 
Dick won’t go to a place without pay.” 

“ I wonder what kind of a chap he is,” said 
Bert, thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve seen 
him yet.” 

“He’s big, for thirteen years,” said Helen; 
“ but I believe he ’s almost fourteen now. I ’ve 
never had a chance to talk with him any. I 
guess he ’s kind of bashful, for he’s gone out sev- 
eral times when I’ve been in there.” 

“ Bert,” said his mother, with a glance at the 
tiny silver cross on her son’s coat, “ perhaps this 
is work for you. A boy of Dick’s age is much 
more likely to be influenced by a boy older than 
himself than by anything his sister, or perhaps 
his mother, could say.” 

Bert looked a little annoyed at the sugges- 
tion, but as he caught the look in his mother’s 
eyes the shadow vanished from his own, and it 
was with his peculiarly bright smile that he an- 
swered : 

“I reckon you ’re right, mother ; and I’ll see, 
at any rate, if I can ‘lend a hand,’ if only for' the 
sake of that poor little mother-girl next door.” 

The result of this talk was that a day or two 
later, Bert appeared at his next neighbor’s with 
an invitation for Dick to go with him to an en- 


Bert Lends a Hand. 87 

tertainment to be given at the Y. M. C. A. rooms 
that evening. 

Dick, flattered and pleased at being sought 
by an older boy, and such a nice, gentlemanly- 
looking fellow as Bert Morris, was very glad to 
go. Bert exerted himself to the utmost to be 
agreeable and entertaining, and Dick came home 
delighted with the whole evening, and ready to 
respond to Bert’s next advance. The next step 
was an invitation for Janie and Dick to spend 
an evening with Helen and Bert — an invitation 
that Dick certainly never would have accepted 
had not his new acquaintance won his liking 
on that first occasion. It was solely to see Bert 
again that Dick agreed to go with Janie, for he 
was just at the age when he shrank from meet- 
ing strange girls and their mothers. 

Such a happy evening as that was to Janie, 
though at first it was only a quiet, friendly talk 
with Helen and her mother, for Bert carried 
Dick right up-stairs to his room to show him his 
typewriter and stamp collection and books, 
knowing that the boy would talk more freely 
there than in the parlor with the others. 

This was Dick’s first glimpse of a nice boy’s 
room and he was fascinated by it. It seemed 
to open a new world to him, and he listened 


88 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


with most eager interest when Bert told him 
what he was doing, and some of his plans for 
the future. 

“I’m at the Business High School, now,” he 
said. “This is my second year, and I ’ll gradu- 
ate in June. I’ve been learning stenography, 
typewriting, and book-keeping ; and we ’ve got 
A i teachers there, so I ’m pretty sure to get a 
good situation after I ’m through. I ’ve earned 
enough already to buy that little machine,” he 
added, brushing a speck of dust from his new 
“ Remington.” 

“My! but I’d like to learn to run one of 
them,” said Dick, eying the instrument ad- 
miringly. 

Bert hesitated for an instant. Then, his 
glance falling on the little silver cross, he said, 
with a light in his eyes that Dick could not un- 
derstand: “ I ’ll show you how to use it, and you 
can come in here evenings, if you like, and prac- 
tice. It won’t interfere with my studying much.” 

Dick’s face flushed with surprise and de- 
light, as he answered : “ I ’d like it tiptop. It ’s 
jolly good of you to give me such a chance.” 

“That’s all right,” said Bert; “but ’seems to 
me that I smell molasses candy. Come, and 
we ’ll investigate.” 


Bert Lends a Hand. 


89 


There was a glad feeling in Bert Morris’s 
heart, as he led the way down-stairs — even 
though he knew that this arrangement was go- 
ing to lessen both his study-time and the quiet 
evenings with his mother and Helen; but “In 
His Name” was Bert’s watchword, and he was 
content, while Dick saw a way opening before 
him to earn a living in the near future, and not 
by selling beer for Averil, either. In his secret 
heart he never had really wanted to go there, 
only he was determined to be earning, and that 
was the only offer that he had had. 

“ Come on, boys ; the candy ’s just ready to 
pull,” called Helen from the kitchen, where she 
and Janie, enveloped in long aprons, were busy 
with the sticky mass, and Dick forgot to be shy 
with a strange girl, and fun and laughter fol- 
lowed, as the four pulled the long strips, each 
trying to excel the other in making the whitest 
and best-shaped sticks ; and all the while Janie’s 
eyes took swift note of the kitchen, which, 
though no larger than her own, was so daintily 
clean and bright, with its fresh white curtains, 
snowy table and shining pans ; and she made a 
mental vow that her kitchen should look like 
that sometime. 

“Aren’t they nice, Dick — all of them?” she 
7 


90 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


said, as the two went home — Janie carrying a 
plate of candy that Helen had insisted upon 
sending to the children — and Dick responded 
promptly: 

“ Bet your life they are. That Bert ’s the 
jolliest chap I ’ve seen yet ;” and Janie was wise 
enough not to remind her brother that “ bet 
your life ” would sound strangely from the lips 
of Bert Morris. 

“ Well, I tell you it seems nice to have them 
old fixin’s off my face,” remarked Tommy, the 
next morning, “ ’n’ I don’t mind goin’ back to 
school. I ’m tired of playin’ Queen Victoria ’n’ 
things to suit Marianna, all the time. Say, Janie, 
I want some marbles.” 

“Haven’t you got some, Tommy?” Janie 
asked. 

“Well, I ’ve got a few ; but I want some good 
alleys — all the boys have ’em.” 

“Do you want them enough to try to keep 
your hands and finger nails clean ?” asked his 
sister; “ ’cause if you ’ll promise to do that, I ’ll 
give you five cents for your marbles.” 

Tommy looked down at his grimy little paws, 
doubtfully. 

“I don’ know. Boys’ hands won’t keep clean 
— seems if, Janie. But I’ll try,” he said finally ; 


Bert Tends a Hand. 


9 r 


and as Janie handed him the nickel, he went to 
the kitchen sink and gave his hands a scrub- 
bing. There was considerable water spilled on 
the floor in the process, and the roller towel 
bore various dark imprints; but Tommy felt that 
he had made a most praiseworthy beginning. 
Janie’s own hands, though often rough and red, 
were always clean, but it was only since she had 
known the Morrises that she had begun to take 
special care of her own nails and the children’s. 
To see that fifty finger nails were cleaned every 
day — even once a day — was something of a task; 
but visions of Helen’s well-kept fingers spurred 
Janie on to the effort. In various other ways 
the silent influence of her neighbors was evi- 
dent in Janie’s home. Indeed, the poor child 
spent more time and strength than she could 
well afford, these days, in cleaning and scrub- 
bing, in her efforts to make her kitchen as im- 
maculate as the one next door, while Tommy 
and Marianna, and even long-suffering Johnny, 
complained of the frequent face-washings and 
hair-brushings to which they were subjected 
nowadays. 

Helen and Janie were warm friends already, 
though, of course, the friendship was far more 
to Janie than to Helen, who had her mother 


92 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


and Bert to look up to and confide in, while 
Janie, seeing her mother so seldom, often felt 
herself sadly alone. 

Dick’s interest in the typewriting never wa- 
vered, and Bert was surprised at the rapid prog- 
ress of his pupil, and soon began to be quite 
proud of him. The lessons were helping 
Dick in more ways than one. He was very 
proud of Bert’s friendship, and anxious to do 
nothing to forfeit it. He began to drop his rough 
ways and the street slang he had been acquiring 
in the last year, and to imitate his new friend 
in many things. He lifted his hat now, when 
he saw Helen at her window or met her on the 
street, and Janie found no more cigarettes in his 
jacket pockets or lying about his room. To tell 
the truth, it had always made him sick to smoke; 
but he had tried for months to overcome what 
he considered an unmanly weakness, and it was 
what he thought a chance remark of Bert’s that 
made him give up the attempt to form the 
habit. 

“ Do you smoke, Bert?” he had asked his new 
friend one day, and Bert had answered in an 
absent-minded way, without taking his eyes from 
the geometry over which he was poring, 
“Smoke? No; my mother’s son is not going 


Bert Lends a Hand. 


93 


to pick up any such disgusting habit as that, if 
I can help it.” 

That was all; and Dick never suspected 
that Bert had seen him with a cigarette in his 
mouth that very day, and had been longing to 
speak his mind about it. 

Dick never had worked at anything as he 
worked over that typewriter, and when Bert of- 
fered to lend him his manual of stenography, 
and, after he had mastered the characters, to 
exchange dictations with him, Dick’s joy and 
gratitude were unbounded. 

“Just wish I could do something to pay back 
a little of it to him,” he said to himself — a most 
unusual feeling for Dick to have, for he was 
not given to thinking much of any one but him- 
self. 

But now there was joy in the little house, for 
mother was coming home to stay two whole 
weeks — that is, unless somebody should sud- 
denly fall ill and send for her. The shadow of 
such a possibility always darkened for the chil- 
dren her brief stays at home; for Mrs. Brown 
was such a good nurse, and so bright and cheery 
and hopeful withal, that she was seldom free 
from engagements. 

Janie had worked from early morning, that 


94 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


the little house might be neater and sweeter 
and brighter than ever before for mother’s 
home-coming. She had cooked, too, the dishes 
that mother loved best, and had set the table 
with a fresh cloth and the best dishes that the 
small closet afforded. The children had been 
scrubbed, and all the fifty finger-nails were in 
order. Janie never counted Dick in with the 
children in such matters; but Dick himself was 
beginning to think that perhaps it would do no 
harm for him to copy his new friend in things 
of this sort, too, though if Bert had ventured to 
make any such suggestion, Dick would very 
likely have resented it. 

The mother was expected about six o’clock. 
It was half-past five when the yardstick made 
its now familiar tap-tap on the window, and 
Janie, running to answer the summons, found a 
little bunch of sweet English violets dangling 
from the stick. 

“For your mother, you know, from mine,” 
said Helen, as Janie pulled off the fragrant of- 
fering and buried her face in the blossoms. 

“She’s coming! she’s coming!” shouted the 
children at the window just as the clock was on 
the stroke of six, and the door was flung open, 
and the next moment ‘ t the mother was half- 


Bert Lends a Hand. 


95 


strangled with four pairs of arms about her 
neck, while the baby clung to her skirts, and 
Dick, looking on and laughing, waited to give 
his greeting. 

“Bless the dear hearts!” the mother said, as 
she looked from one to another of the bright 
faces. “ It ’s almost worth while to be six weeks 
away if one can get such a welcome as this 
after it.” 

Supper over, and the dishes washed and put 
away, the children gathered about to see mother’s 
satchel opened ; for when she returned from one 
of these long absences she never came empty- 
handed. The satchel was sure to contain some- 
thing for each of the children. This time 
there was a dress for the baby, shoes for Tommy 
(there never was a time when Tommy’s toes 
were not either in full view or beginning to peep 
out), a hat for Johnny, a necktie for Dick, and 
for Janie the material for a new dress that made 
her soft’eyes shine with satisfaction. 


CHAPTER IX. 


AN IMPROMPTU PARTY. 

HE next day was Sunday — such a quiet, rest- 



I ful Sunday as Janie had not had for long; 
for with mother to take the care and responsi- 
bility off her shoulders, the work itself seemed 
light to the girl. The evening talk with her 
mother, when the younger ones were in bed, was 
very sweet to Janie, and bedtime came all too 


soon, 


“I declare, child,” Mrs. Brown said as she 
fastened doors and windows, “ I feel ’most wicked 
not to have gone to church at all to-day ; but it 
did seem so good to be at home with you all, that 
I could n’t bear to stir.” 

There was stir enough in the little house the 
next morning, however. 

“ For I ’m bound to get that dress cut and 
made for you right away, Janie,” her mother 
said.' “If I don’t, somebody may come for me 
unexpected, an’ then you ’ll be without a decent 
dress to your name.” 

“O mother, couldn’t I have it made like 
Helen’s ? That ’s such a pretty way,” Janie said. 


An Impromptu Party. 


97 


“ Helen ? O that ’s one of our new neighbors. 
How was it made, child?” 

“ I ’ll run in and ask her to let me take it 
for you to see. I ’m sure she won’t mind,” said 
Janie. She was back in a few minutes with a 
pretty, dark-blue cashmere over her arm. 

“They are the nicest people. I think they 
just love to lend us anything,” she said; “and, 
mother, Mrs. Morris wants you to go in there 
with me this evening. She does not go out at 
all, you know ; but she wants to see you.” 

“Well, I ’ll see. We’ll go in one evening if 
not to-night. But, Janie child, you mustn’t get 
into the habit of borrowin’, you know,” said 
Mrs. Brown, anxiously. 

The dressmaking went on prosperously, and 
before Thursday night the dress was finished, 
and Janie, as she tried it on, experienced a very 
deep and real satisfaction as she thought, “Now 
I won’t feel so shabby and outgrown the next 
time I go into Helen’s.” 

It was really wonderful the amount of work 
that Mrs. Brown’s busy fingers accomplished 
that week. Why, the big mending-basket was 
actually emptied for once, and the baby took 
possession of it, and finally curled himself up in 
it with the white kitten in his arms, playing that 


98 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


he was a kitten too; and there they were, baby 
and kitten, both sound asleep when Janie came 
to take the baby np to bed. 

But these happy days were over all too 
quickly ; for somebody did get sick “ unexpected,” 
and sent for the nurse, and there was nothing 
for it but for her to pack the old satchel and 
answer the summons. She had already been in 
with Janie to make the acquaintance of her new 
neighbors ; but she ran in again for a moment, 
before setting out for her new nursing place. 

“ I could n’t go away without telling you how 
glad I am that my children have such kind 
neighbors close at hand,” she said to Mrs. Mor- 
ris. “You’ve been so good to Janie and Dick, 
and all of us in fact, and I know if anything 
should happen while I ’m away, that Janie could 
call on you. It makes me feel easier about 
leaving them ; for Janie’s not much more than 
a child yet, for all her womanly ways; and the 
help your boy has been to Dick — you ’ll never 
know how much I thank you and him for that ;” 
and Mrs. Brown wiped her eyes as she shook 
her neighbor’s hand, and trotted off. 

“How disappointed they’ll be!” said Helen, 
as the door closed after Mrs. Brown. “ She ’s 
only been home a little over a week, and they 


An Impromptu Party. 99 

expected she would stay two weeks at least. O 
mother, can’t we have them all in here to tea or 
something to-night, so they won’t be so awfully 
lonesome ? Let ’s put our heads together, moth- 
erdie, and think up something for that poor, 
little motherless brood.” 

The result of the putting of the two heads 
together was a note that came tap, tapping 
against the window, dangling from the end of 
the much-used yardstick. It would have been 
just as easy to open the windows, and talk 
across the small space, but Helen often preferred 
to send her little written messages. This one 
was directed to “ Miss Helen Morris,” and read: 

“Miss Janie Brown and her sister and broth- 
ers request the pleasure of your company on 
March twenty-second, from three to six o’clock.” 

And on another slip of paper was written : 

“Dear Janie, — This is to be my party, that 
I ’ve been promising the children, you know ; 
only as mamma is n’t very well to-day, I ’m 
going to have it, with your permission, in your 
house instead of ours,’ so that we can make as 
much noise as we like, or rather as Tommy and 
Marianna like. The supper is to be my treat, 
and I want you, please, to give the inclosed 
notes to Marianna and the boys.” 


IOO 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Janie smiled happily as she read this note, 
and wondering a little what the others con- 
tained, she at once sent back a grateful little 
missive by the yardstick mail. 

Marianna read her letter, giggled over it, and, 
writing a very brief reply, attached it to the 
yardstick, which Helen promptly thrust out 
when she heard the window open. 

When Dick and Tommy came home at noon, 
they chuckled over their notes, and then they 
sent out brief replies; but not one of the three 
would tell Janie what their notes were about. 

The boys did not linger on the way home 
from school that afternoon ; but they found Helen 
waiting for them in the little parlor when they 
came in, and the merriest kind of an hour fol- 
lowed. 

Helen knew all sorts of games — noisy ones, 
that delighted Marianna and Tommy and the 
baby ; quieter ones, that suited Janie and Johnny 
better ; and riddles and conundrums that Dick 
liked to puzzle over. 

When the children were tired of racing about, 
playing “puss in the corner” and “stage-coach ” 
and “fruit-basket,” or when they were too hoarse 
to yell out their words in “ shouting proverbs,” 
they all gathered about Helen, while she told 


An Impromptu Party. ioi 

them bewitching fairy stories, slipping off after 
a while on to true stories of great men and 
women, and their brave and noble deeds. Helen 
had that rare gift of story-telling that holds the 
listener’s attention whatever the theme, and even 
restless Tommy listened eagerly to every word, 
though the innumerable twists and contortions 
of his small body, as he sprawled on the floor at 
her feet, made Helen’s eyes twinkle with amuse- 
ment more than once. 

Janie was just about to slip away to the 
kitchen, when there came a loud, double rap at 
the door, and there was Bert with a big basket 
on his arm. 

“ I was n’t invited,” he said ; “but since I ’ve 
brought the supper, I really think I ought to 
be and in he came, and then such a time as 
they had over that supper! 

Everything except the dishes was in that big 
basket — everything, even to a table-cloth — “for 
it ’s my party, and I was n’t going to make an 
extra table-cloth for your wash,” Helen said, 
gayly; “but now, you big boys, Bert and Dick, 
you’ve got to help Janie and me fix the table; 
and you four,” to Marianna and the little boys, 
“ you ’re to look on and see that we do n’t forget 
anything; and if anything that ought to be in 


102 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


this basket is n't in it, then Mr. Elbert Morris 
will have to walk himself out and get that miss- 
ing article at once.” 

That certainly was the queerest party supper 
that ever was seen. In the first place, there was 
a roast chicken. “That’s your dish, Janie,” 
said Helen. “ Here, sit right down beside it.” 

Then came a big red lobster. 

“ For you, Dick. Take this chair,” said 
Helen. 

Then a cake, with pink frosting and nuts all 
over the top. “ That ’s Bert’s ; he has a week- 
ness for nut-cake,” Helen declared, pushing her 
tall brother into a chair next the cake. 

Then came a rice-pudding for Tommy, and a 
dish of popcorn-balls for Marianna, some oranges 
for Johnny, and finally a bowl of oatmeal-mush 
and a big pitcher of milk for the baby. 

“Well!” exclaimed Janie as she surveyed 
the odd assortment, “if this isn’t — O I know 
now — that ’s what was in the notes. You asked 
the children what they liked best to eat?” 

“That’s it,” laughed Helen. “I wanted every- 
body to be suited;” and then she brought out 
from the bottom of the basket a plate of fresh 
rolls. “ Nobody mentioned bread and butter ; but 
possibly some one may like a little,” she added. 


An Impromptu Party. 103 

Such a merry supper as that was ! And how 
funny it was to see the baby quietly devote him- 
self to his oatmeal and milk, never asking for 
anything else that was on the table ! And when 
supper was over, what fun they had clearing off 
and washing the dishes! Helen insisted upon 
putting gingham aprons upon Bert and Dick, 
and making them help. Then followed an- 
other hour in the little parlor, and Dick looked 
thoughtfully as he saw Bert exerting himself to 
make a happy evening for Janie and the little 
ones. He had n’t supposed that a big fellow 
like Bert, and such a busy fellow too, would 
“ waste ” an evening so.” 

But as the clock struck seven, Bert started 
up, saying gayly: “You people are altogether 
too entertaining. I ought to have been home 
and hard at work by this time. Dick, don’t 
you want to come along and take a look at that 
book I brought home last night ? I sha’n’t have 
time to touch it this evening.” 

As the two boys went off, Janie picked up 
the baby, who was nodding sleepily, and carried 
him off up-stairs, while the other four gathered 
about Helen and clamored for another story. 

“Another? O, I couldn’t, really,” she said; 
“my story-box is empty for to-night.” 


104 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“ Say,” said Tommy, suddenly leaning for- 
ward, and pointing at the little silver cross on 
Helen’s dress, “what do you always wear that 
thing for? Is it a breastpin?” 

“ Why, Tommy Brown — I think you ’re aw- 
fully unpolite,” said Marianna, in a reproving 
tone. 

Tommy paid not the slightest attention to her. 

“Is it?” he repeated. 

“A breastpin?” said Helen. “No; it is a 
sign.” 

“A sign of what?” persisted Tommy. 

“A sign that I am a King’s daughter. I wear 
it always to remind me that I must not do any- 
thing that a King’s daughter ought not to do.” 

“Huh! I don’t believe you’re any king’s 
daughter,” said the little doubting Thomas, 
looking at her with his head on one side and 
his hands deep in his pockets. “ Marianna — 
she ’s always wantin’ to play Queen Victoria 
’cause she has to be queen every time,” he added, 
with a scornful backward glance at his sister. 

“ But I do n’t play it. I really am a King’s 
daughter,” said Helen gently, smiling into 
Tommy’s earnest eyes; “and Marianna is a 
King’s daughter, too, if she is n’t Queen Victoria, 
and you and Johnny are his sons.” Then, as 


An Impromptu Party. 105 

Janie came back, having put the baby to bed, 
Helen sprang up, saying: “I’ve staid an hour 
longer than I meant to, and now I must run 
home. I ’ve had a lovely time and with 
merry “good-nights ” to them all, she departed. 

“Say, Janie, what did she mean sayin’ she’s 
a king’s daughter? She said she truly was, ’n’ 
that Marianna was one too, ’n’ me ’n’ Johnny 
was king’s sons. We ain’t, be we ?” said Tommy. 

“ Why, I guess — she meant — God. He ’s a 
King, you know, and everybody is his son or 
daughter,” said Janie, shyly, shrinking from the 
curious gaze of Marianna’s sharp black eyes. 

“I don’t see — ’’began Marianna; then she 
stopped. Janie had gone to the kitchen. 

“Don’t see what?” said Tommy. 

“Nothin’,” said Marianna. “Only, say, 
Tommy Brown, I ain’t goin’ to play Queen Vic- 
toria any more. I ’m tired of it, an’ you do n’t 
play it good anyhow;” and Marianna picked up 
the cane that she had used since her ankle had 
grown stronger, and limped off to bed. 

Tommy looked thoughtfully at Johnny. 
“Marianna’s funny sometimes, ain’t she?” he 
remarked. 

Johnny nodded; then he'said, dreamily: “I 

wish ’t I knew what Helen meant.” 

8 


CHAPTER X. 


BERT SPOILS SPORT. 

OR a wonder, Dick awoke early the next 



A morning, and as he dressed he heard voices 
in the adjoining yard. Flingitig open the shut- 
ters, he saw Bert with a shovel digging up the 
ground along the fence, while Helen followed 
him with a rake, breaking up and smoothing 
over the broken clods. 

Long before, Bert had repaired the fence, re- 
placing the missing boards and closing up the 
openings through which Tommy and the Grady 
boys had carried on their battles. 

Dick was soon down-stairs, and having started 
the kitchen fire for Janie he was speedily 
mounted on the dividing fence. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked; “makin’ a 
garden?” 

“ Good morning,” said Bert, and Dick col- 
ored. He had not thought to say “Good morn- 
ing,” even to Helen. 

“Yes; Helen can’t get along without her gar- 
den,” Bert added. 

“No, indeed, I can’t, when we have to stay 


106 


Bert Spoils Sport. 


107 


in the city all summer,” said Helen. ‘‘Don’t 
you and Janie have one, Dick?” 

“Never have,” said Dick. “ Janie do n’t have 
time to tend to flowers.” 

“Janie? Of course, not,” said Helen. “Janie’s 
a perfect wonder to me. I do n’t see how she 
gets so much done. But she loves flowers dearly, 
I know.” Helen hesitated and looked up at 
Dick, words that she longed to utter trembling 
on her lips; but Bert with his back to Dick, 
whispered “Don’t,” and Helen, after a moment’s 
pause, said brightly: “We’re going to have a 
famous garden here. We have such a nice, big 
yard, and Janie shall have all the flowers she 
wants this season.” 

Dick made no reply. He sat on the fence 
until breakfast-time, watching his neighbors as 
they worked, giving rather brief answers to the 
gay remarks that Helen now and then flung at 
him. At breakfast, he remarked: 

“ They ’re making a flower-garden all along the 
fence, both sides of their yard — the Morrises are.” 

“The Gradys did n’t raise nothin’ but corn- 
cobs and tomato-cans when they lived there,” 
said Marianna, with a snicker. 

“I wish ’t we had a flower-garden,” said 
Johnny, in his slow, quiet voice. 


io8 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“You might plant a few flower-seeds, Johnny,” 
said Janie. 

“ ’T would n’t do no good. Tommy ’d trample 
on ’um, an’ the baby ’d pull ’um up,” said 
Johnny, gloomily. 

“You wouldn’t care much for a garden, I 
guess, Janie,” remarked Dick, carelessly; “you 
do n’t have no time to fuss over flowers.” 

“ I ’d take time if I could get some beds fixed,” 
said Janie; “and mother’d like ’em, I know. 

Dick said nothing more then ; but a day or 
two after, Bert saw him laboriously digging up 
the hard-packed soil in his yard with a small 
stove-shovel. 

“I thought so,” said Bert to himself. Then 
he stepped to the stairs and called, “ Helen, 
come up here a minute;” and as his sister ran 
up, he pointed to Dick. “ See — the seed took 
root,” he said. “It did n’t need any suggestions 
from us to start it.” 

Helen laughed gleefully. 

“I ’m so glad,” she said. “Janie loves flow- 
ers dearly, and it will be so good for Dick to 
fix the garden for her. But, Bert, can’t we lend 
him our spade and shovel? It must be awfully 
slow, hard work digging with that little thing 
he’s using.” 


Bert Spoils Sport. 


109 


“Of course. I’m going down now to give 
them to him. I ’m glad, though, he did n’t ask 
for them. I like his grit — pitching in with that, 
rather than to borrow.” 

So presently a big garden-shovel tumbled 
over the fence close beside Dick, and after it 
went a spade, and after that a rake, and then 
Bert’s laughing eyes appeared above the fence. 

“Come, now,” he said; “I don’t know about 
this. It looks to me like running opposition; 
but if you expect to have a better garden, or 
raise larger chrysanthemums than we do this 
year, you’ll just find yourself mistaken, sir.” 

“ That ’s fine,” said Dick, as he seized the 
spade, and putting his foot on it, drove it deep 
into the ground. “ I can get on swimmingly 
with this.” 

“Well, now, if you’ll promise not to run op- 
position to us, I ’ll let you into one or two of 
our trade secrets,” went on Bert, springing 
lightly over the fence and picking up a handful of 
the earth that Dick had just turned up. “Yes, 
just like our yard ; the meanest kind of soil — 
wet, sticky, clayey stuff. Nothing will grow on 
it except chickweed and plantains.” 

Dick paused, with his feet on the spade. 

“What are you going to do, then?” he asked. 


no 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“I ’m going to hire a horse and wagon of an 
old darkey I know — a mule and wagon, I should 
say — and next Saturday I ’m going to the woods 
to get a lot of loam. It ’s capital for flower- 
beds — best of anything.'’ 

“Do you have to pay for it?” asked Dick. 

“No; these woods will be sold for house-lots 
by and by, and the good soil will be carted off 
when the streets are graded, or cellars dug for 
houses. I wanted somebody to go along with 
me. Suppose you go, Dick.” 

“ I ’m your man,” was Dick’s quick response. 

“ All right. Keep the tools till Saturday, then. 
I sha’n’t use them again till I get the loam,” 
Bert said. 

Dick pitched in then, and worked his hard- 
est — too hard, indeed; for the next morning his 
arms and back were so lame that the garden 
tools remained unused. 

Young muscles, however, soon recover, and 
the next day, which was Friday, Dick finished 
this preliminary work, and was ready for the 
expedition to the woods with Bert on Saturday. 

“Stylish turnout, isn’t it?” Bert said, as they 
started off. 

The cart was old and shaky — one tire was 
loose, and one of the back wheels wabbled badly. 


Bert Spoils Sport. 


i 1 1 


The mule, too, matched the vehicle, for it was 
blind in one eye, and lame. 

“If the old cart only will not fall to pieces, I 
do n’t mind the looks,” said Bert, as two small 
boys yelled after them: “Say, mister, your 
wheel ’s goin’ round.” “ But I am sorry the old 
beast is lame. I hate to drive a lame creature.” 

Fortunately they had not very far to go, lor 
the woods were not more than half a mile out- 
side the city limits. Bert was a great walker, 
often rambling several miles before breakfast, 
and he knew just where to find what he sought. 
So the cart was soon filled. 

“ Wonder what those fellows are up to yon- 
der?” he said, as he threw the shovel on top of 
his load when the cart was full. “They’re a 
rough-looking lot, and somehow I fancy they ’re 
up to some sort of mischief. I ’ve half a mind 
to go and investigate and he hesitated, with 
the lines in his hand. 

“ Half a dozen of them ; you might get into 
trouble,” said Dick. 

Bert’s head went up, and his eyes flashed. 

“Trouble!” he repeated. “ What has that to 
do with it, if there is a wrong to be righted?” 
and flinging the lines to Dick, he went off to- 
wards the group. 


1 1 2 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


The boys all faced him as he drew near. 

“Well, what’s wanted?” said the biggest of 
the group, a lad about Bert’s age, with an evil 
look in his cross eyes. The others drew to- 
gether, hiding something on the ground be- 
tween them. 

Just then a low whine caught Bert’s quick 
ear. One of the boys kicked at something, and 
a yelp of pain followed. 

“You are torturing a dog,” said Bert, speak- 
ing very quietly. “ Let him go, boys. It ’s 
poor sport for big chaps like you.” 

One or two of the boys looked a little 
ashamed ; but the rest grinned and hooted, call- 
ing out warnings to Bert to mind his own busi- 
ness and let them alone — warnings interlarded 
with oaths, that made Bert’s cheeks burn. 

Suddenly the dog gave a spring, breaking the 
cord by which he was held, and running to Bert, 
crouched at his feet with a pitiful whine. The 
poor creature was dripping wet — he had evi- 
dently been thrown into the stream at the foot 
of the hill, where the boys were standing — and 
two tin cans were tied to his tail. 

Bert snatched up the dog and ran toward the 
cart. With angry yells, the boys followed. Dick 
sprang from the cart as Bert approached. 


Bert Spoils Sport. 


”3 

“Jump on and drive off. I ’ll keep the boys 
back if I can,” Bert said, putting the dog on top 
of the load. 

Bert was a swift runner, but the boys were 
close at hand as Dick drove off, lashing the 
old mule. 

“Pitch into him, boys! We’ll learn him to 
spoil sport for us !” shouted the biggest boy, as 
he aimed a blow at Bert. 

Backing against a big tree near at hand, Bert 
defended himself as best he could ; but five 
against one is heavy odds, especially when the 
five are furiously angry and bent on revenge, 
and it would have gone hard with Bert had not 
Dick appeared on the scene again with a police- 
man at his heels. At sight of the blue coat and 
brass buttons the rough crowd dissolved as if by 
magic, every boy taking to his heels. 

“ ’Bout in the nick of time for you, young 
man,” said the policeman, as he walked on with 
Bert and Dick. “I know some of them chaps, 
an’ I would n’t want much of an excuse for 
runnin’ ’em in. They know it, too.” 

“ But how did it happen that Dick met you 
’way out here beyond city limits?” asked Bert. 

“ That was a bit of good luck for you, I 
reckon,” said the policeman. “I was sent out 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


i 14 

here to find a man that was wanted as witness in 
the police court. He lives just a little way from 
here, and I was coming from his house when 
this fellow here,” glancing at Dick, “ came down 
the road, trying to lash his old lame mule into 
a gallop. I was just going to arrest him for cru- 
elty to animals,” added the policeman, with a 
grin, “ when he dropped off the cart and begged 
me to go after you.” 

“ And what did you do with the mule and 
cart, Dick?” said Bert. 

“ Left ’em by the road. I reckon the old crit- 
ter won’t have gotten very far off,” said Dick. 

She had not, indeed ; for they found her qui- 
etly cropping the grass by the roadside, a few 
yards from where Dick had left her. 

“ Poor old chap !” Bert said, patting the rough 
head of the dog that shrank and cowered at 
their approach. But as the boy cut the cord and 
tossed aside the old cans, the poor, shivering 
creature licked his hand, and looked up at him 
with almost human gratitude in its big, mourn- 
ful eyes. 

“What you goin’ to do with it — send it to the 
pound?” asked the policeman. 

“ I s’pose so,” said Bert. “ Poor thing !” 

“Best place for it. They ’ll soon put it out 


Bert Spoils Sport. 


115 

of its misery there,” said the policeman, as he 
turned away. 

“ Might have gone pretty hard with you ’f I 
had n’t met that policeman,” remarked Dick, as 
they drove slowly homeward. “If I’d ’a’ had 
time to think, I would n’t have left you at 
all; but you were so quick about it, that 1 did 
as you said before I knew what I was about. I 
should have run back alone if I had n’t met 
him. Those fellers were ugly customers. They 
would n’t have minded mauling you pretty badly 
if they ’d had time. Guess you ’d ’a’ wished 
then you ’d let them do what they liked with the 
yeller dog,” he added, with a glance at the 
poor brute. 

“You’re wrong, Dick,” said Bert, decidedly. 
“ I ’ve got to do what seems to me the right 
thing every time. The consequences I ’ve noth- 
ing to do with, and no boy that amounts to any- 
thing, or expects to amount to anything, would 
stand by and see a poor dumb thing like this 
tortured to death. I believe the creature under- 
stood what I said,” he added, with a laugh, as the 
dog reached forward and licked his hand again. 

He put the dog in Helen’s care when he got 
home, telling her to feed it and fix a bed for it 
in the yard. 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


i 16 


“ We ’ll give it one peaceful, well-fed day be- 
fore I take it to the pound,” he said. 

The boys made four trips to the woods that 
day, but saw no more of the other boys. Before 
night the garden-beds in both yards were 
smoothly spread with rich, black mold, and Dick 
spent the evening poring over seed catalogues 
and finding out from Janie what flowers she and 
“ mother ” loved best. 

As for the children, each of them, even to 
the baby, had petitioned for a little garden bed 
of his own. Dick was inclined to refuse. 
“ They won’t keep ’em nice, ’n’ they ’ll spoil the 
looks of my beds,” he said. But Janie inter- 
ceded for the children, and Dick finally “staked 
off” a claim for each of the four. 


CHAPTER XL 


MARIANNA GOES VISITING. 

O N Monday morning, Janie was busy hang- 
ing out clothes, so that the washerwoman 
might the sooner be through and begin iron- 
ing the soonest-dried pieces, when the little bell 
at the window tinkled and tapped on the glass. 
Bert had fixed a double line between the two 
windows to supersede the yardstick, and fastened 
a sleigh-bell at each end. 

This time a note to Marianna was waiting to 
be taken in, and Marianna’s eyes danced with 
delight as she read it; for it was an invitation 
from Helen for Marianna — Marianna alone, and 
not even Janie or the baby — to spend the whole 
day with her. 

It was now five weeks since Marianna had 
sprained her ankle, and it was so nearly well 
that she could use it walking about the house ; 
but she had not yet been out, and the idea ol 
seeing the pretty house next door, of which Janie 
had talked so much, and of seeing Helen’s 
mother, and even staying to supper there, was 
delightful, indeed, to the child. 


8 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“Wish I was goin’, too,” Johnny said, wist- 
fully. 

“Well, you ain’t; it ’s only me,” said Mari- 
anna, too delighted herself to give a thought to 
Johnny’s longings. “Can I wear my best dress, 
Janie?” 

“Yes,” Janie said; “and remember, Marianna, 
to be very quiet; for any noise disturbs Mrs. 
Morris.” 

“O yes, of course, I ’ll remember,” Marianna 
said, as she ran up-stairs. 

She did not come down for some time, and 
when she did, she not only had on her best dress, 
but her hair hung in “curls,” she called them, 
about her head. Her hair was at the awkward 
length, for it had been shingled before her acci- 
dent, and now reached nearly to her shoulders. 
By dint of much wetting and brushing around 
her finger, she had made about her head a row of 
twists , which she fondly persuaded herself were 
curls, though the ends stuck out stiffly, refusing 
to lend themselves to any such deception. Janie 
had that most rare gift of knowing when to be 
silent, so she made no comment on Marianna’s 
curls; but Johnny, stung by his sister’s indif- 
ference to his wishes, remarked pointedly : 

“You ’d look pretty well with that dress on, 


Marianna Goes Visiting. 


19 


if ’t was n’t for them silly twists on your head. 
Did you s’pose anybody ’d think they was curls?” 

Marianna’s face flushed, but she made no 
reply as she put on her hat and departed. 

To tell the truth, Helen was not especially 
glad to have a visit from this particular member 
of the Brown family. Marianna was to her the 
least attractive of the six; but she was sorry for 
the active child, shut into the house for so many 
weeks, and knew that a day’s outing would be 
a real treat to her, while she surmised that Mari- 
anna’s absence would lessen Janie’s cares on her 
busy Monday. Hence the invitation that had 
so delighted Marianna. 

Helen’s lips twitched as she caught sight of 
the curls that adorned the head of her visitor; 
but she choked back her laughter as she wel- 
comed the child, and brought out her old dolls 
and games, with such books as she thought 
would interest her. Everything interested Mari- 
anna — it was all so new to her. She was happy, 
and, like most of us, she was at her best when 
she was happy, and Helen could not but enjoy 
her eager interest, and her quick, bright re- 
marks; for Marianna was by no means dull. 
Her black eyes took in everything at a glance; 
and when, at dinner-time, she found herself sit- 


120 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


ting at such a dainty table as she had never 
even imagined before, she bore herself with far 
more ease than Janie had done in the same 
circumstances, and unfolded her big napkin and 
spread it over her lap in a matter-of-course way, 
as if she had always been accustomed to sit at 
just such a table, while her quiet manners and 
respectful answers, when Mrs. Morris spoke to 
her, made that lady wonder how Helen could 
have given her such a wrong idea of the child. 

After dinner, Mrs. Morris told Helen to bring 
out a box of old photographs for Marianna to 
look over. They were mostly pictures of Bert 
and Helen, taken at various times from boyhood 
up to within two or three years. Marianna was 
greatly interested in them — in Helen’s pictures, 
that is — she gave but a passing glance at Bert’s, 
but she lingered over Helen’s, studying each 
one carefully, and turning back again and again 
to one taken when Helen was about her own age. 

“Do you like that one best?” asked Mrs. 
Morris, her daughter being out of the room just 
then. “ It ’s a homely little picture, I think.” 

“ It is n’t as pretty as some of the others,” said 
Marianna, slowly; “but I like it best, I guess, 
Mrs. Morris.” She looked up suddenly, and spoke 
quickly and eagerly: “Will you please lend me 


Marianna Goes Visiting. 


121 


this for a little while ? I ’ll be very, very care- 
ful of it.” 

Mrs. Morris hesitated. The old pictures were 
very precious to her ; for, if lost, they could 
never be replaced ; but she could not say “ no ” 
to the pleading look in the child’s eyes. 

“Yes, dear,” she said, “I will lend it to you 
for a while.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianna, her eyes so 
softened that Tommy would hardly have recog- 
nized them. She wrapped the picture in her 
clean handkerchief, and laid it on the mantel- 
piece. Then, Helen coming back, a perverse 
spirit seemed suddenly to enter into Marianna. 
She picked up a picture of a little girl of eight 
or nine years : 

“That ain’t Helen; who is it?” she asked. 

“That is a picture of a cousin of Helen’s,” 
Mrs. Morris answered. 

“A cousin? She looks just like a cousin of 
mine — my Aunt Sarah’s little girl — kinder 
rumpled and mousled, do n’t you know?” And 
as the child looked up with a wicked glint in her 
eyes, Mrs. Morris wondered if those could be the 
same eyes that had looked so soft and tender a 
moment before. Marianna went on recklessly : 
“Aunt Sarah’s always as cross as two sticks; 

9 


122 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


an’ Uncle John, he hates children, an’ won’t let 
Julia speak out loud when he ’s in the house. 
Julia’s ’fraid as death of him, an’ always just 
whispers when he ’s in the room, /do n’t and 
Marianna gave her head a toss that shook the 
last twist out of her curls; “I talk right out 
loud. The more Uncle John scowls at me, the 
louder I talk. / ain’t ’fraid of anybody.” 

Mrs. Morris and Helen did not smile at all. 
They both looked very grave as the saucy little 
tongue ran on, and Marianna, already sorry that 
she had yielded to the impulse that had moved 
her, and conscious that she had made a bad im- 
pression where she most wanted to make a good 
one, grew sullen and silent, and almost wished 
herself at home. Not quite, though, even yet. 
Helen put away the photographs, and brought 
out* her parchesi-board, and Marianna, quick 
at games as at everything else, forgot to be 
cross and miserable after a little, and was bright 
and happy again. But she was careful to guard 
her unruly little tongue during the remainder of 
her visit. 

At three o’clock Bert came home, and Mari- 
anna took silent note of his affectionate greeting 
to his sister, and the way in which he spoke to 
his mother as he dropped on one knee beside 


Marianna Goes Visiting. 


123 


her couch and kissed her ; and as to Marianna 
herself, she felt as if she were almost a young 
lady when the tall, sixteen-year-old boy, instead 
of giving her a careless nod, shook hands with 
her, and told her he was glad that she was able 
to get out once more and to return some of 
Helen’s visits. “Just as if Helen came to see 
me, and not Janie,” the child said to herself, and 
she answered him in such a bright, pretty way, 
that Bert, like his mother, wondered why Helen 
considered this one the least attractive of the 
Brown family. 

Bert went out to put in some seeds that he 
had brought home, and when he came back the 
yellow dog was at his heels. 

“ O, are you going tb keep him?” said Mari- 
anna, eagerly. She was very fond of dogs. 

Bert glanced at his mother with a twinkle in 
his eyes, but he did not answer. He only said: 
“ I ’ve discovered that he knows some tricks, 
mother. Look here. Sit up, sir,” he said, and 
the dog obeyed, sitting patiently, with his fore- 
paws dropped, until Bert said, “ Now die,” when 
he instantly rolled over and lay motionless, look- 
ing very dead indeed. He started up wagging 
his stump of a tail, as Helen clapped her hands; 
then, as Bert said, “ No, no, you ’re not through 


124 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


yet, sir. You must beg,” he actually went from 
one to another on his hind feet, holding out his 
right paw to each one in turn. 

“ O is n't he splendid ! If you do n’t keep him 
yourself, please do give him to me,” pleaded 
Marianna. 

“ I ’ll give him to you if mother says I can’t 
keep him,” said Bert ; “ but I hope he has con- 
vinced her that' he ’s no common dog in spite 
of his looks. Do n’t you think he ’s worth keep- 
ing, mother?” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Morris. “You may keep 
him if you want him so much, Bert. He has 
been somebody’s pet, for it must have taken 
long and careful training to make him do his 
tricks so perfectly.” 

“ I thought you would plead your own 
cause, old fellow,” Bert said, patting the rough, 
yellow head, while the dog, evidently sure that 
he was among friends, settled down at Bert’s 
feet with a long sigh of content and went to 
sleep, keeping one eye open enough, however, to 
be ready to spring up the moment his new mas- 
ter should move. 

When, after supper, Marianna went home, 
she could not have told herself whether she was 
happy or miserable. She felt as if she had been 


Marianna Goes Visiting. 125 

looking into a mirror and seeing, side by side, 
the Marianna Brown she was, with the Marianna 
Brown she might be — had been indeed, to a 
certain extent, that day, except for those horrid 
things she had said about Aunt Sarah’s folks. 

She did not say much at home about her 
visit. The most she had to tell was about the 
yellow dog and his funny tricks ; but she said so 
much about' him that Tommy and Johnny, and 
even Dick, were all fired with an eager desire to 
find just such another dog for themselves. 

“ What have they named him ?” asked 
Tommy. Marianna proudly answered : “ Bert 
let me name him, and I called him Tag, be- 
cause he tags after Bert so, you know.” 

“Huh!” remarked Tommy; “that’s a girl’s 
name. If he was my dog I’d name him Tiger.” 

“ Tiger !” retorted Marianna, scornfully ; 
“ that ’d be a great name for a little yellow dog 
’thout any tail, hardly and then she turned 
her back on Tommy, and addressed her remarks 
to her sister and Johnny for the remainder of 
the evening. 

She shared Janie’s room; but one drawer in 
the bureau and half the space on top belonged 
exclusively to her. When she went up to bed, 
she shut the door and took out of her pocket the 


126 


Nkxt-Door Neighbors. 


little photograph of Helen, still carefully folded 
in her handkerchief. She looked at it a long 
time in silence. “She wasn’t as pretty as she 
is now,” the child murmured softly ; “ but she 
looks so sweet an’ good an’ clean — clean inside, 
I mean — an’ she was just as old as I am. I 
wish — I wish I could be like that.” With a 
quick glance at the closed door, she pressed the 
picture to her lips, whispered softly “ Good- 
night,” then carefully wrapped it again in the 
handkerchief, and tucked it into the bottom of 
her drawer. Not even to Janie did she show it; 
but every night for two weeks she looked at it 
with the same longing in her heart, and always 
whispered “Good-night” as she laid it away. 

At the end of the two weeks she reluctantly 
made up her mind that she must return the pic- 
ture to Mrs. Morris; and she did so, merely say- 
ing, as she laid it on the table: “ I ’ve brought 
back that little picture of Helen’s that you lent 
me.” She had a faint hope that Mrs. Morris 
would tell her to keep it, as indeed she would 
have done had she had any idea of what it 
meant to the child ; but she had not, of course, 
so she only said, “Very well, dear,” and won- 
dered afterward what the longing look in the 
black eyes meant. 


CHAPTER XII. 


MEASLES. 



HE April days, with their mingled showers 


A and sunshine, passed by, bringing no special 
happening to the six little Browns, save the 
brief occasional visits of the mother when she 
could slip away from her patients. One lovely 
little happening on the very first day of April, 
however, made Janie’s heart glad; and for this, 
as for so many pleasant things, she was in- 
debted to her next-door neighbors. 

The day had been a noisy and uncomfortable 
one to Janie ; for Tommy and Marianna had 
played all sorts of first of April tricks, until 
Johnny and even the baby had grown cross and 
weary, and Janie had hard work to keep the 
peace among them all. 

After supper there came a rap at the door. 
“Don’t open it, Janie — it’s just Tommy try- 
ing to fool us again,” said Johnny, fretfully, 
Tommy and Marianna both having vanished a 
little before. 

“O, I guess I ’ll open it. There may be 


128 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


some one there, and I don’t mind being ‘ fooled ’ 
again,” Janie said. 

Her long-drawn “O!” of delight as she threw 
open the door drew Johnny quickly to her side, 
and he, too, cried “O!” as he buried his face in 
the basket that hung from the knob — a basket 
filled to overflowing with trailing arbutus, its 
pink-tinted, waxen blossoms peeping out from 
the dark-green leaves, and filling the whole 
room with their exquisite fragrance. 

“That’s an April fool worth having,” said 
Johnny. “Who do you s’pose hung it there?” 

“It must have been Helen,” said Janie. 
“ You see to baby, Johnny, while I run and thank 
her. I ’ll only be gone a minute.” 

“It wasn’t I; it was Bert,” Helen 'said. 
“Just see what a lovely bowlful he brought 
mamma and me. He went to the woods for it 
after school.” 

Helen privately thought that Bert would feel 
amply repaid if he could see the happy light in 
Janie’s eyes; but she promised to give the mes- 
sage of thanks to her brother, and Janie ran home. 

She had not been away more than three min- 
utes, but in those three minutes Aunt Sarah had 
come, and she was sitting in the big rocker, 
with her most severe expression on her thin 


Measles. 


129 


face when Janie returned. Julia sat on the 
lounge, staring at the baby, who, with his fat 
thumb in his mouth, stared back at her. He 
did not see her often enough to feel well ac- 
quainted with her. 

“Well, Jane,” began Aunt Sarah, “I must 
say that I’m surprised at you. I didn't think 
that you ’d leave your little brother and the baby 
alone, while you traipsed off to the neighbors. 
I do n’t think even your mother, careless as she 
is, would think that just the thing.” 

“But, Aunt Sarah,” said Janie, “I only ran in 
next door to thank Helen for that beautiful ar- 
butus. I wasn’t away five minutes,” she added, 
glancing at the clock. 

“It makes no difference, Jane, whether you 
were away a few minutes, more or less — it’s 
the principle of the thing. Why, the baby 
might have got the matches and set his clothes 
afire — or the house. It would n’t take five min- 
utes for him to do that.” 

“I wouldn’t ’a’ let him,” piped up Johnny’s 
small voice. 

Julia glanced at him and smiled ; but her 
smile faded . as she caught her mother’s severe 
glance, and Aunt Sarah went on: “Where are 
Marianna and Tommy — and Dick ?” 


130 


Nkxt-Door Neighbors. 


“ Dick is working in the yard. He ’s made 
a nice flower-garden,” Janie said; “and Mari- 
anna and Tommy are out to play.” 

“Yes — running the streets, as usual. It’s 
bad enough for a boy, but for a great girl like 
Marianna to live in the streets as she does, is 
enough to ruin her. No wonder she ’s bold and 
saucy,” said Aunt Sarah. “ When is your 
mother coming home ?” she added, abruptly. 

“ Not until the end of the month — to stay,” 
said Janie. “ I expect her to-night though. 
She said she would come if she could get away 
before bed-time.” 

Aunt Sarah glanced at the clock. “ I want 
to see her,” she said; “but I can’t wait if she 
doesn’t come soon. Julia has n’t been very well 
lately,” she went on, after a moment’s silence, 
and with an uneasy glance at her small daugh- 
ter. “The doctor says she ought to be with 
other children, and as I know ’t would be a sav- 
ing to your mother to have one less to feed, 
I ’ve come to invite Marianna to spend a week 
with Julia. If she behaves herself, maybe I ’ll 
keep her longer.” She paused and looked at 
Janie, evidently expecting her to be greatly im- 
pressed by such an invitation from such a 
quarter. 


Measles. 


I 3 I 

Janie’s face was a study. Knowing Mari- 
anna’s feeling toward her aunt and uncle, she 
knew that it would be a difficult matter to make 
her sister accept this invitation ; but she dared 
not say this to Aunt Sarah, who sat in grim si- 
lence waiting for her answer. 

“It’s very kind of you, Aunt Sarah, to invite 
Marianna,” she said, hesitatingly; “but — but 
she might be noisy sometimes, and I’m afraid 
she would annoy Uncle John.” 

“Of course, she’d annoy him — even Julia 
annoys him sometimes,” said Aunt Sarah ; and 
Janie felt a throb of pity for her little cousin as 
she saw her face flush at her mother’s words. 
“And I know very well how noisy and rude 
Marianna is,” Aunt Sarah added, calmly — and 
now it was Janie’s face that flushed — “but if 
Julia’s got to have somebody to play with, my 
conscience would n’t let me ask some other lit- 
tle girl, even if she was better behaved than my 
own niece; and besides, I think it will be an 
excellent thing for Marianna to be under good 
discipline for awhile. I ’ll warrant she won’t 
spend much time racing round the streets play- 
ing with boys while she’s with us.” 

“Won’t Marianna be mad, though?” said 
Johnny, when, after a stay of half an hour, Aunt 


132 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Sarah departed with Julia, who had not opened 
her lips during the whole time. “Will she 
have to go, Janie?” 

“I s’pose so,” said Janie, slowly. “I don’t 
see how I can help it if Aunt Sarah says she 
must. I am sorry for Julia,” she added. “She 
looked so pale and tired I should think she 
would want some one to play with in that big, 
lonesome house.” 

Marianna was furious when she heard of 
Aunt Sarah’s invitation — an invitation which 
amounted to a command. She stormed and 
scolded and cried — declared she would not go — 
she knew her mother would not make her, and 
finally went to bed and sobbed herself to sleep 
over the prospect. 

She was silent and sullen the next morning, 
“a regular cross-patch,” Tommy called her; but 
Janie, seeing how the child dreaded and shrank 
from the thought of the proposed visit, and 
sympathizing with her more than she dared 
show, since she saw no way of preventing it, 
was very patient and gentle with her, and would 
not let Tommy tease her. 

Aunt Sarah had said that Marianna’s visit 
was to begin the next Monday, and through the 
intervening three days Marianna’s gloom con- 


Measles. 


i33 


tinued. Indeed, on Saturday she was so cross 
that Janie herself had hard work to get along 
with her, and the boys refused to play with her 
at all. So' Marianna, lolling on the lounge, 
amused herself by making the most tantalizing, 
aggravating remarks she could think of — and 
she could think of plenty in that line — till 
Tommy said : 

“ Let ’s go up-stairs ’n’ play where she can’t 
see us, Johnny.” And up-stairs they went, the 
baby tagging after them. 

“ I do n’t care,” said Marianna, as Janie looked 
up from her work. “ I ’m glad they ’re gone.” 

Janie said nothing, and silence followed. It 
was so very still that presently Janie looked up, 
wonderingly, and wondered still more to see 
that her sister was fast asleep. 

She slept until Dick came in at supper-time, 
and went listlessly to the table, saying that she 
“did n’t know as she wanted any supper.” 

The next morning, when Janie went to call 
her, Marianna’s face was as speckled as a tur- 
key’s egg, and her hands were hot and feverish. 

Janie’s heart sank as she looked at her. 

“ She ’s going to be sick, sure,” she said to her- 
self. “ I do hope it is n’t scarlet fever; and, any 
way, I must keep the boys away from her.” 


i34 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Marianna was still sleeping heavily; so she 
did not awaken her, but closed the door, and 
dressed the baby herself. 

“I should think you might make Marianna 
get up in time for breakfast,” Dick said, as the 
others gathered at the table. “ She ’s late half 
the time, ’seems to me.” 

“ She ’s sick this morning, Dick,” Janie an- 
swered. 

“That’s ’cause she was so cross yesterday,” 
remarked Tommy. 

“ No — I think it was the other way, Tommy. 
It was because she was sick that she was so 
cross. I never knew her to go to sleep in the 
daytime as she did yesterday.” 

“Not real sick, is she?” asked Dick, notic- 
ing Janie’s grave face. 

“I’m afraid so,” she answered. “Anyway, I 
do n’t think any of you ’d better go in her room 
till we know what is the matter.” 

“ If she ’s sick, she won’t have to go to Aunt 
Sarah’s, will she?” remarked Johnny. 

“Maybe Aunt Sarah ’d take Tommy instead,” 
suggested Dick, whereat Tommy answered, 
hastily : 

“O no! It’s a girl she wants, ’n’ I ’m awful 
glad I ain’t a girl.” 


Measles. 


35 


Marianna grew worse as the day went on, 
and Janie finally sent Dick for Dr. Corson. 

“Is it scarlet fever, Doctor?” she asked, 
anxiously, when he came down-stairs after see- 
ing his patient. 

“ No, little woman,” he answered, in his 
hearty, kindly way. “You ’re not going to have 
another siege of that this time. L,et ’s see, have 
any of you had the measles?” 

“I believe I have,” Janie said; “but none of 
the others.” 

“ Well, that ’s what Miss Marianna has, and 
it ’s pretty likely the rest will have it too. Keep 
the others away from her, and keep the room 
dark. If you do that, and do n’t let her get 
cold, I do n’t think she ’ll be very sick. But if 
the others take it from her, you ’ll have more of 
a hospital here than you did last winter, and 
your mother ’ll have to come, sure.” 

Marianna was sitting up in bed when her 
sister went up to her, after the doctor had gone. 

“ What does the doctor say ’t is ?” she ques- 
tioned, eagerly. 

“Measles,” said Janie, closing the shutters 
to darken the room ; “ and he says if you 
do n’t get cold, he thinks you won’t be very 
sick.” 


136 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Marianna’s eyes sparkled, and a broad stnile 
broke over her queer, speckled face. 

“ I do n’t care,” she said, settling back com- 
fortably on her pillow. “I ’d rather have mea- 
sles any day than go to Aunt Sarah’s. She 
can’t make me go to-morrow, anyway.” 

But the next day Tommy’s face was as 
speckled as his sister’s ; and before the week 
was out, Johnny, and then Dick, and finally the 
baby, had followed Marianna’s example, and 
there were five well-developed cases of measles. 

Fortunately, Mrs. Brown’s patient was con- 
valescent, and she could leave ; and on Friday 
night she came, to Janie’s great relief and the 
delight of the sick children. 

“ There ’s no need of my coming any more, 
now that your mother ’s here,” the doctor said 
to Janie the next morning. “ She ’s as good as 
a doctor any day, and better than half of ’em.” 

And, indeed, under her wise and careful nurs- 
ing, the children were soon about again ; but 
they looked queer enough with the shades cov- 
ered with green cambric, that she insisted upon 
their wearing till their eyes got strong again. 

Johnny was the only one whose recovery was 
slow. He had the disease more severely than 
any of the others; and even when able to be 


Measles. 


37 


down-stairs again, did not regain strength as the 
others did. 

Aunt Sarah had come on the Tuesday after 
Marianna was taken sick, to know why the child 
had not gone to her house on the preceding day, 
as she had ordered ; but learning what had in- 
terfered with her plan, she hastily retreated, say- 
ing sharply to poor, troubled Janie : 

“You ought to have a placard on the house, 
so people would know. S’posing I should carry 
it home to Julia? I can’t be thankful enough 
that Marianna did n’t come down with it in our 
house.” And so ended Aunt Sarah’s plan for 
providing a playmate for Julia. 

“ Would you have wanted Marianna to go 
there, mother?” Janie said, when she talked the 
matter over with her mother, when the children 
were getting better. 

“Well, no,” said Mrs. Brown, thoughtfully. 
“ Marianna would have been miserable there — 
what with your Aunt Sarah’s scoldin’, an’ your 
Uncle John’s frettin’ — an’ probably she ’d have 
done somethin’ or other that would have aggra- 
vated Sarah so she ’d have sent her home. But 
I tell you, Janie, I do pity that poor little child. 
Sarah does n’t allow her to play with other chil- 
dren ’nough to keep her healthy an’ bright. 

IO 


138 Nkxt-Door Neighbors. 

No wonder she looks so pindlin’ an’ peaked. I 
wish we could have her here with us for a month or 
two. I believe ’t would do her good, poor child.” 

“Aunt Sarah never would let her,” said Janie. 

“No, I do n’t s’pose she would; but ’t would 
be better ’n any medicine for the child,” said 
Mrs. Brown. 

Never had there been a day during the sick- 
ness of the small Browns that the little bell had 
not tinkled and tapped on the upper window. 
Mrs. Morris had not thought it best for her 
daughter to go in herself, but Helen had used 
her bright wits to devise all sorts of things to 
amuse the five invalids. Sometimes it was a 
funny letter to one or the other of them ; some- 
times a long one, full of jokes and riddles for all 
together. Then again, an amusing book, or a 
box of jackstraws, or some other game, would 
appear, varied by an occasional basket of fruit, 
or perhaps the basket would contain a bowl of 
jelly or a custard. 

It came to be the one great excitement of 
the day to the children to guess and speculate 
as to what would come tapping at the window 
next, and many and many a time did tired Janie 
and her mother rejoice that such neighbors as 
these had come in place of the Gradys. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


MOTHER BROWN’S BIRTHDAY. 

ICK had the disease very lightly ; but, per- 



L-s haps for that very reason, he was the most 
troublesome patient of all the five. He was not 
sick enough to be in bed after a day or two, and 
fretted continually because his mother would 
keep him in a darkened room. 

“He does fret so about his garden,” his 
mother said to Janie. “Is it a flower-garden 
he ’s been fixin’ in the yard?” 

“Yes, mother,” Janie answered. “I guess 
you have n’t looked out in the yard since you 
came home, have you ?” 

“No indeed ; I have n’t had time to put my 
nose outside the door,” the mother answered. 
“But it ’s a new thing for Dick to be interested 
in anything of that sort.” 

“Well, come out in the yard now, mother,” 
said Janie, throwing open the kitchen door. 

“ Well, well, well ! I should never have 
known the yard. Did Dick fix all these beds !” 
exclaimed Mrs. Brown, looking about her in great 
surprise. 


139 


140 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“Yes,” Janie answered. “You just step up 
there and look over the fence, and you ’ll see 
what started him to doing it.” 

“ Well, well, well !” repeated Mrs. Brown as she 
peered over the fence. “Who would ever have 
expected to see Gradys’ yard fixed up like that? 
Why, I do n’t believe Mr. Thayer would know 
the place if he should see it ; nor ours, either,” 
she added, stepping off the fence, and casting 
another admiring glance at the neat beds, in 
some of which the seeds were beginning to come 
up, while others were already well-stocked with 
slips of heliotrope, geranium, and verbenas. 

Mr. Thayer was the owner of the small frame 
houses. 

“And how nice the grass looks, too !” she 
added. “ There ’s never been anything but plan- 
tains and ragweed growin’ here since we ’ve 
lived here, till now. I always loved flowers 
and a nice, green door-yard; but with so many 
little folks to make and mend for, I never could 
seem to get a minute to fix up the yard, even 
before I began nursing. And to think that Dick 
has done it all. Well, well, well !” she repeated. 

“ Those are the children’s beds, down there 
at the end of the yard,” said Janie. “ Dick 
did n’t want them to have any, ’cause he said 


Mother Brown’s Birthday. 14 i 

they would n’t keep ’em in any kind of shape; 
but they all wanted ’em so much that I coaxed 
him to give each one a little spot for his very 
own. That ’s Marianna’s over in the corner.” 

“ And what has she got here, all over it ?” 
said Mrs. Brown, peering curiously at the corner, 
where green sprouts were appearing in queer 
irregular clumps. 

U I believe she planted nothing but sunflower 
seeds. She said she meant to have the biggest 
flowers in the yard,” laughed Janie. 

“And that is Johnny’s. Its looks as nice as 
any of Dick’s beds.” 

“ And it ’s so good for him to work out here, 
poor little lad,” said his mother, tenderly. 
Sickly Johnny had, perhaps, the warmest place 
of all in the warm mother-heart. 

“And is this Tommy’s?” she added, laugh- 
ing ; for Tommy’s bed looked as if a cyclone 
had struck it, and a grasshopper raid after the 
cyclone. 

“ I wish you could have seen Tommy, 
mother,” said Janie, laughing in her quiet way. 
“ Helen gave him some beans to plant — scarlet 
runners — you know, and he was delighted with 
them. But the third day after he had planted 
them, he got tired of waiting for them to come 


142 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


up, and dug them all up to see if they had 
sprouted. One or two had, and he poked them 
all back into the ground again. About a week 
after he came running in to me very much ex- 
cited, and told me that he must have put those 
beans in wrong side up; for they were all coming 
up upside down, and so he said he had pulled 
them up, and planted them all again the right 
way; but he couldn’t understand why the sprouts 
looked so funny. You ought to have heard Dick 
shout when he saw them all with the beans and 
little leaflets down in the ground, and the little 
roots sticking up in the air. Tommy was so 
mad about it that he said he would n’t touch 
the old beans again ; but after he went to bed 
that night, I set them all into the ground again 
the right way and watered them, and I guess 
most of them will grow.” 

“What a Tommy he is!” said the mother. 
“And is this the baby’s corner?” 

“Yes,” said Janie; “he plants everything 
there. I saw him trying to plant the kitten, 
one day. But he is so good ; he never touches 
any but his own little corner, except when he 
helps Tommy with his bean-planting.” 

“ The precious baby !” murmured his mother, 
fondly. “ But I must not stay here any longer, 


Mother Brown’s Birthday. 


i43 


Janie, child ; for the children will think I ’ve 
been so long away from them and she trotted 
hastily back to her little hospital, making Dick’s 
eyes shine and his cheeks flush with pleasure 
as she expressed her surprise and delight over 
the improvements in the yard. 

“ Do n’t look anything beside Morris’s,” Dick 
said, gruffly, trying not to show how pleased he 
was at his mother’s words ; and through the re- 
maining days of his confinement to the house he 
spent most of his time planning other improve- 
ments about the little home — things that a year 
ago he would never have thought of undertaking. 

The very first day that his mother would al- 
low him to do so, Dick was at work in the gar- 
den, even though he had to wear — to his great 
disgust — an old veil over his hat. But work out 
doors, even with that condition, was delightful 
to the active lad, to whom the two weeks con- 
finement had seemed an age. 

“ It ’s almost worth while to be shut up in 
the house, though,” he said to Janie, who stood 
looking on as he worked, “ to see how things 
have grown since I was out here last. Why, 
they ’ve just jumped !” 

Janie answered absently. She was evidently 
in a brown study. 


144 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“ I ’ve been thinking, Dick,” she said, after 
a little silence, “how nice it would be if we 
could get up a little something for mother’s 
birthday. It is next week, you know — the 19th 
of May — and if only somebody does n’t get sick 
and send for her, could n’t we have a nice little 
celebration, do n’t you think?” 

“What kind of a celebration?” said Dick, in 
a non-committal tone. 

“I don’t quite know; but, Dick, you know 
I have n’t spent any of my straw money, and I 
meant all the while to use part of that for some- 
thing for the home. I must use some of it for 
shoes and other things that I have to have ; but 
with the rest I want to get something real nice, 
and I ’ll do it for mother’s birthday.” 

“How much can you use so?” asked Dick, 
leaning against the fence to rest his back, after 
stooping over the beds. 

“Ten dollars,” said Janie. 

“ And I ’ll put another ten with it,” said Dick, 
quietly. 

“O Dick!” cried Janie, delightedly. “That 
will be perfectly splendid. But how can you? 
You only get three twenty-five a month for de- 
livering papers, and you ’ve got to have shoes, 
and a new suit too, have n’t you?” 


Mother Brown’s Birthday. 


45 


“Yes,” said Dick; “but you know I ’ve been 
working for Small, Saturdays, all the spring.” 

Small was one of the city florists. 

“Yes, I know,” said Janie; “but I thought 
he only paid you in seeds and slips. That ’s 
what you said when you first went there.” 

“And that was the arrangement when I first 
went there,” said Dick, relapsing into his gruff- 
est tone, for he liked to keep his affairs to him- 
self, and would have preferred to have Janie ac- 
cept his offered help without any question as to 
how it came about ; “ but you do n’t s’pose I 
was going to work for him forever just for seeds 
and slips, do you ? Soon ’s school ’s out he 
wants me every day,” he added, reluctantly. 

“O, that’s nice!” said Janie. “Well, now, 
with twenty dollars we can do something lovely.” 

“ Do n’t go to spending it on any silly folde- 
rols,” remarked Dick, with his most mannish 
tone and air. 

Janie laughed brightly. “No danger of that, 
Dick. Let ’s both think it over, and then decide 
on whatever we both like best.” 

“O shucks! I don’t know. You’ll have to 
do the thinking and deciding yourself,” said 
Dick, with all a boy’s dislike for that which is 
such a pleasure for a girl. 


146 Next-Door Neighbors. 

It was both a pleasure and a perplexity to 
Janie this time. Twenty dollars was an unheard- 
of sum for her to have at her disposal, and at 
first it seemed as if there were endless possibil- 
ities in it; but as she thought over the many, 
many wants in the poor little home, she found 
it a most difficult matter to decide what was 
most needed. There was the parlor carpet, for 
instance. How many times Janie had longed 
to have something fresh and new in place of the 
faded, much-darned one that had been their best 
ever since she could remember! What a delight 
it would be to go to a carpet-store and select 
something warm and sunny and strong, that 
would make the room so much nicer and pret- 
tier. But then, on the other hand, it was al- 
most summer now, and they might get along 
until fall with the old carpet ; and how nice it 
would be to have some fine, pretty table-cloths 
and napkins, like those that Mrs. Morris used ! 
Janie had the true housewife’s love for dainty 
linen and china, though she had never known 
it until she had seen her neighbor’s pretty 
table. 

But then this vision faded. Delicate china 
would be short-lived in the hands of Marianna 
and Tommy, or even the dear baby, who had a 


Mothkr Brown’s Birthday. 


147 


habit of slipping his plate into his lap, and 
often on to the floor. 

So poor Janie pondered the matter, weighing 
one want against another, and utterly unable to 
decide the momentous question. 

At last she gave it up. “ It ’s no use, Dick,” 
she said ; “ I ’ve thought and thought, and I just 
can't decide. Let ’s give her the money, and let 
her decide herself what to get with it.” 

“ She ’ll let it go for rent or coal or grocer- 
ies, and we won’t feel ’s if it helped a bit,” grum- 
bled Dick, discontentedly. 

“No, I do n’t think she will, Dick; not if she 
can possibly help it. She ’ll know just how we 
feel about it, I ’m sure,” Janie answered. “ But 
I ’in going to do something — something that 
won’t cost much, you know — anyhow. If only 
somebody doesn’t get sick and send for her; 
I ’in all the time afraid of that,” she added. 

“ No good to worry ’bout it,” was Dick’s re- 
joinder; and Janie answered: “I know it; but I 
can’t help it. Just think how horrid it would 
be to get all ready for a splendid celebration, 
and then have mother have to pack her satchel 
and go off just before.” 

But for once this did not happen. The 19th 
of May dawned bright and sunshiny as could 


148 Next-Door Neighbors. 

be desired, and nobody appeared with a sum- 
mons for Nurse Brown. That good woman, 
always anticipating some such summons, was 
busy all day and long into the night, making 
and mending for her little flock, trying to get 
the children’s summer clothing in shape, so that 
Janie might not have too much to do through 
the hot summer days to follow. So busy was 
the mother that she gave but a passing thought 
to the whispered conversations that took place 
between Janie and Dick, and occasionally Mari- 
anna and Johnny; and as to her birthday, she 
had entirely forgotten all about that. 

Of course Janie had taken Helen into her 
confidence, and Helen appeared soon after break- 
fast to ask if Janie would come in and show 
her how to make a kind of cake that was quite 
a specialty with Mrs. Brown, though it was 
seldom enough nowadays that she made it. She 
had taught Janie how to make it, though, and 
now she answered readily: “Yes, yes; run along, 
Janie, and be sure you have the oven just right. 
Half depends on the baking, you know.” 

So the two girls ran off, hiding their laugh- 
ing faces from unconscious Mrs. Brown, who 
never suspected that Janie had already handed 
across the fence the materials for the cake. A 


Mother Brown’s Birthday. 


49 


merry time the two girls had over the mixing 
and the baking and the icing, and never had 
Mrs. Brown herself made a handsomer loaf than 
the one that stood in Mrs. Morris’s pantry an 
hour later. 

When Janie came back, she brought an in- 
vitation for her mother. “ Helen is going out 
this afternoon, and Mrs. Morris wants you to 
take your sewing and sit with her till Helen 
gets back,” was the message she brought ; and, 
all unconscious still of any plots or plans, Mrs. 
Brown said promptly: “Why, of course I’ll go. 
Dear heart, I ’m so sorry for her — never able to 
get out at all, and always so sweet and bright 
with it all.” 

So, after dinner, she took her sewing and 
trotted off to brighten the afternoon for her 
sick neighbor, and never suspecting that, as she 
went in at the front door, Helen slipped out the 
back one, and through an opening that Dick 
had made in the fence. 

Then how the two girls did work! Dick 
and Bert had made an expedition to the woods 
for greens, with which the little parlor and 
kitchen were trimmed till they looked as if 
ready for a Christmas festival. That took a 
long time, for such decorations can not be put 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


150 

up in a hurry, and many a time did the two 
girls wish that the boys were there with their 
long arms, to do the reaching for them ; and 
many a tumble did they have off the box which, 
placed on end in a chair, was the only substi- 
tute for a stepladder. When Dick came from 
school, the trimmings were all in place, and 
though he made various critical remarks, he 
secretly thought the effect “just fine,” and he 
ruthlessly picked every blossom from his cher- 
ished garden-beds, and brought them to Janie 
to decorate the table. 

And that table ! Janie gave a happy little 
sigh of content and satisfaction as she put the 
finishing touches to it ; and it did look pretty ! 

It was an old-fashioned round table, and 
Janie had ventured for once to put on it the 
cherished best table cloth — not so fine and heavy 
as those of Mrs. Morris’s that she so admired, 
but a pretty snowdrop pattern that had always 
been her great admiration. She sighed a little 
over the heavy, much-nicked plates and cups 
and saucers — she hated to have Helen know 
that these were all they had — but it was some 
comfort to hear Helen’s exclamations over the 
quaint old sugar-bowl and cream-pitcher that 
had belonged to Janie’s grandmother. They 


Mother Brown’s Birthday. 15 i 

were not silver — only Britannia; but Janie had 
polished them till they shone like mirrors, 
and as Mrs. Brown had once told Janie, “ they 
were real Britannia,” and there were really five 
silver spoons. To be sure they were very, very 
thin and rather worn at the edges of the bowls 
from long usage ; but they were silver, and Janie 
fingered them with infinite satisfaction as she 
told Helen how there had been six, but once, 
when Marianna was little, a beggar had come 
to the door when Mrs. Brown was hanging some 
clothes on the line, and Marianna, in a most un- 
usual spirit of generosity, had seized one of 
these cherished spoons, which by some chance 
happened to be on the table that day, and had 
given it to the man, who hurried away as he 
heard the mother come through the kitchen. 

But to come back to that birthday table. The 
girls had run the evergreen around the edge, 
pinning it to the cloth, and putting rings of it 
around each of the center dishes. 

Of course that beautiful cake had the place 
of honor in the middle of the table. There 
were no candles on it — so many candles would 
have cost too much — but the figures 38 were 
put on it in pink sugar. Besides the cake, 
Janie made light, flaky soda biscuits — such a big 


52 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


pan of them! — and gingerbread: “That’s for 
the boys and Marianna,” she explained ; and 
there was a big dish of shrimps, “ because 
mother likes them.” 

And wasn’t it worth while to see mother’s 
face when Helen went after her, and her own 
six, all in their Sunday best, stood about the 
table, waiting to see how she liked it ! Well, if 
she did n’t like it, nobody ever did like a birth- 
day surprise. And how she praised everything 
over and over, and almost cried with pleasure 
because her children had remembered the birth- 
day that she had utterly forgotten ! Of course 
Helen staid to supper too, and of course a gen- 
erous slice of the cake was sent in to Mrs. 
Morris and Bert. 

But to Janie and Dick, and to Helen too, the 
best part of it all was seeing mother cut the 
cake, and watching her as she ate her own 
piece — for Janie had marked one particular 
slice and managed to slip that one into her 
mother’s plate — and to see her look of amaze- 
ment when two ten-dollar gold pieces tumbled 
out into her plate, was worth all the sacrifice 
they had made to Janie and Dick. 

The mother stared at the gold pieces and 
then at the children, and it was some time be- 


Mother Brown’s Birthday. 153 

fore she could believe that her boy and girl had 
really earned and saved all that to give to her ; 
and when she did grasp the fact, she broke down 
and cried, and at that the baby broke out into 
a wail of sympathy, and she had to dry her own 
tears in order to stop the flow of his. 

Altogether, that was one of the happiest birth- 
day parties that ever was ; and Dick, when he 
laid his head on his pillow that night, reminded 
Dick Brown that he ’d “ learned how to invest 
his spare ten dollars, and he ’d better not forget it.” 

11 


CHAPTER XIV. 


MARIANNA’S LITTLE GIRL. 

B UT the very next day the summons came 
for Nurse Brown, and as she heard it a 
shadow fell upon her kindly face — a shadow that 
was reflected upon all the other faces except the 
baby’s, when she said: “It’s a case of scarlet 
fever this time, children, and it won’t do for me 
to come home or even to write to you till it ’s 
over, one way or the other; and it may be a good 
many weeks. But,” she added, the mother- 
love making her plain face beautiful, “ I know 
you’ll all be good children, and mind sister 
Janie ; and Dick” — laying her hand on the boy’s 
shoulder — “ I ’ll feel easier about Janie, for she’s 
got a tall brother now, to make things easier for 
her. It ’s such a comfort, my boy, to have you 
making the burdens lighter for us both.” 

She did not say “lighter instead of heavier;” 
but Dick’s conscience added that, even if the 
words did not actually form themselves to his 
consciousness. He knew well that he had been 
a source of anxiety to both mother and sis- 
ter ; but now, as his mother spoke, he drew him- 
i54 


Marianna’s Little Girl. 


i55 


self up and said to himself, “They sha’n’t have 
me to worry about, that’s sure.” 

The mother’s farewells were even more ten- 
der than usual. It was so hard to know that, 
however they might need her, she could not 
come to them for so many weeks, and she knew 
from experience how she would hunger for 
a sight of the dear faces. So she went away 
with a very sorrowful heart, and five sorrowful 
faces clustered about the doorway and watched 
her out of sight — Dick going with her to the 
car, to carry the old black satchel. 

“ The new house is all done, is n’t it ?” Janie 
said, as she went in and closed the door. She 
must talk about something, to brighten the 
shadowed faces of the children. 

“Yes; it’s a big one. Must be a big family 
to fill that up,” said Marianna, looking out of 
the window. 

“I saw a Jady and a man going in there yes- 
terday,” remarked Johnny. 

“ I wish somebody as nice as the Morrises 
would come there to live,” said Marianna. 

“They wouldn’t be neighbors to us like the 
Morrises, even if they were as nice,” said Janie. 
“ Only rich folks would live in a big, handsome 
house like that.” 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


156 


“ I guess the Morrises are pretty rich,” re- 
marked Tommy. 

“ Pooh ! they ain’t, either,” said Marianna, 
scornfully ; “ ’s if rich folks would live in a 
little bit of a house like this !” 

“ Well,” said Johnny, “ their house is real 
pretty, if ’t is little — ’t is n’t a bit like ours ;” and 
he looked around the room, where everything 
was so worn and shabby. 

“What’s mother goin’ to buy with the gold 
money?” said Tommy, suddenly. 

“She hasn’t decided yet,” said Janie; “but 
I guess she ’ll buy a new carpet for this room. 
Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

“Yes,” said Johnny, his eyes brightening. 
“ I get so tired, sometimes, looking at this old 
thing and the paper. I hate this paper.” 

“ Well, maybe next fall we’ll have new paper 
as well as a new carpet — who knows?” said 
Janie, cheerily. “Here comes Dick ; and now 
let ’s see who will have the brightest face when 
he comes in.” 

“We’re going to have some new neighbors,” 
Dick remarked, as he entered. 

“In the big new house?” said Tommy. 

“ Yes, in the big new house. Say, Janie, it ’s 
open now ; I ’ve just been through it. It ’s fine, 


Marianna’s Little Girl. 


i57 


I tell you. Don’t you want to go in with me 
and see it ?” 

“Can we?” said Janie. 

“ Yes ; I guess they won’t mind. The men 
are putting in the gas fixtures. Come along.” 

“I want to go, too.” “And I.” “And I,” 
chorused the children. 

“ O, bother ! I did n’t bargain to take the 
whole family,” grumbled Dick; but he grum- 
bled good-naturedly, and so the whole six pres- 
ently went trooping through the big, beautiful 
brown-stone front, that made the two little frame 
houses look so very small and insignificant as 
it loomed up three stories above them. 

“O my, isn't it lovely !” Janie cried again 
and again, as they passed from room to room. 
They had never been in such a house before. 

“Tub-night would be fun here,” remarked 
Marianna as they peeped into the bath-rooms, 
with their white tiled floors and walls and mar- 
ble basins. 

u My-ee! would n’t I like to take a swim in 
that big place,” said Tommy, gazing longingly 
into the bath-tub. 

But it was a small room on the second floor, 
at the back of the house, that called forth the 
most admiration from Janie and Marianna. Such 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


158 

a lovely little room as it was, with pale-blue 
cartridge paper on the walls — the wide frieze 
having a design of deeper blue and silver — and 
the ceiling a soft sky-blue, sprinkled with silver 
stars. In one corner of the room was a marble- 
basin, with hot and cold water, and two of the 
windows were long, opening upon a little cov- 
ered balcony. 

“I wonder if this is a little girl’s room? It 
looks like it,” said Janie, and Marianna re- 
marked : “Wish ’t I was the girl ’t was goin’ to 
live here.” 

“Well, come on out ; you ’ve been all over,” 
Dick said now, a little impatiently, and the 
others followed him down the long, square stair- 
case. 

“Isn’t it funny, Janie, to think ’t we won’t 
never come in this house again, when it ’s right 
next door to us, just like the Morrises’ ?” re- 
marked Marianna as she followed her sister. 

“ I do n’t see nothin’ funny ’bout that,” said 
Johnny, gloomily. He was always gloomy when 
he was tired. 

The next week the owner moved into the 
new house. Hoad after load of costly and ele- 
gant furniture was carried in, and Marianna 
lamented that she had to go to school and 


Marianna’s Little Girl. 


i59 


could n’t see it all. Only Johnny and the baby 
had the benefit of it — of the sight of it, that is — 
and they cared very little about it. 

But even Johnny was interested when the 
people themselves arrived, and Marianna re- 
joiced that this, at least, did not happen while 
she was at school. 

“O Janie,” she cried, running out to the 
kitchen where her sister was getting supper; 
“ there is a little girl, and I ’ve seen her ; and O, 
she ’s just as pretty as she can be ! Her hair ’s 
as fluffy and gold as the baby’s, and she ’s just 
as white — O, as white as that lovely bath-room! 
And she had on such a pretty dress, all lace ’n’ 
ruffles, an’ a hat with white ribbon an’ white 
feathers.” 

Janie smiled down into her sister’s eager face. 

“Did the little girl come all alone?” she 
said. 

“No, indeed; a lady was with her. She wasn’t 
pretty a bit — the lady was n’t — but her dress 
was lovely. An’ there was a tall, nice-looking 
gentleman, an’ three big boys — ’most men, two 
of ’em were — ’n’ the other was as big as Bert 
Morris. Say, Janie, do you s’pose the little 
girl ’ll have that pretty little room that looks 
into our yard?” 


i6o Next-Door Neighbors. 

“Maybe so. Why, Marianna, I never saw 
you so interested in any little girl before,” said 
Janie. 

“Well, she ’s so — so — different from any little 
girl I ever saw before, an’ she just matches that 
room somehow,” said Marianna. 

“If that is her room, maybe you’ll see her 
on the balcony sometimes, when you are playing 
in the yard,” said Janie. 

She did not so much wonder at Marianna’s 
unusual interest when, a day or two after, she 
herself caught a glimpse of her small neighbor; 
for it would be hard to imagine a more lovely 
child than this little seven-year-old girl. Her 
name was Lillian — Lily they called her — and the 
name suited her well. The only daughter, and 
so much younger than the boys, she was the pet 
and almost the idol of her father and brothers. 
Her mother loved her as well as she could love 
any one except herself, and was very proud of 
her beauty; but Mrs. Elliot’s time and atten- 
tion were given almost wholly to society, and 
she had little of either to bestow on any one or 
anything else. She ordered beautiful garments 
for her little daughter, secured for her a French 
bonne , with a perfect accent and the best of 
recommendations, and considered that she had 


Marianna’s Little Gire. 161 

done all that could be expected of a mother 
moving in such a high social circle as hers. 

As to her father, the little Lillian was the 
light of his eyes — the most precious thing in all 
the world ; but Mr. Elliot was a very busy man. 
Business or social duties claimed his evenings 
as well as his days, and dearly as he loved her, 
he had very little time to give to his small 
daughter; while the boys were away at school 
the greater part of the year, and often spent their 
summer vacations with their grandparents, so 
that they did not see much of their little sister, 
either. So, in spite of the beautiful home, the 
parents and brothers, and everything that money 
could buy, little Lillian had many lonely hours — 
hours that she passed standing at the window, 
dreamily watching the passers-by, and envying 
the groups of children as they went by chatting 
and laughing with one another. 

She longed to go to school, but her mother 
would not listen to such a suggestion. Even in 
the most select and limited private school she 
might catch measles or whooping-cough, or 
some other dreadful disease, the mother said ; so 
the child lived her lonely life, and grew whiter 
and frailer every year. 

She was not much interested in the new 


i 62 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


home to which she had been brought. It was 
no more beautiful than the one they had just 
sold ; but this was considered the healthiest part 
of the city, and so Mr. Elliot had built this new 
house, and brought his little white lily here. 

“ Do you like your room, little girlie ?” he 
said to her as he led her to the dainty back 
room, that had charmed even Marianna’s care- 
less eyes. 

“Yes, papa,” Lillian answered. “You were 
good to take so much trouble about it but he 
noticed that she gave but one swift glance about, 
and then climbed into his lap and dropped her 
golden head listlessly on his shoulder. 

“ Come out on the balcony, and see how cool 
and pleasant it is/’ he said, and she slipped 
down and followed him obediently, but with no 
real interest in her face. 

But her eyes brightened as she looked down 
into the adjoining yard, where the children 
were playing circus. An old sheet, stretched 
across the yard by means of strings fastened to 
the corners and to the fence on each side, served 
for a tent. Johnny was stage manager, and Mari- 
anna, Tommy, and the baby, with Tag, were the 
performers. Marianna, with a huge wig made 
of long curling shavings, and wearing an old 


Marianna’s Little Girl. 


163 

skirt of Janie’s, was mounted on a chair on top 
of the wash-bench. She was the lady eques- 
trienne. Tommy, with one of Dick’s jackets 
on, buttoned over a small pillow, was the little 
giant who walked on his hands with his feet in 
the air, while the baby was the great American 
Tumbler, his part being to turn a series of 
somersaults at various intervals during the per- 
formance, the fun of the baby’s part, to the 
other children, lying in the fact that he never 
by any possibility succeeded in accomplishing 
a somersault, but only stuck his small heels up 
in the air, and then tumbled over sideways in a 
laughing, crowing heap. But the star of the 
“company” was Tag. He entered into the per- 
formance as heartily as the children themselves, 
and went through his list of tricks again and 
again, his brown eyes shining, and his stumpy 
tail going like a trip-hammer, in response to 
their shouts of laughter. 

The children were so much interested in 
their performance that they did not notice the 
spectators on the balcony of the big house; but 
little Lillian was immensely amused with it all. 

“O papa, isn't it funny?” she whispered 
again and again ; and once, as she nestled 
against her father’s shoulder, she said: “I’m so 


164 Next-Door Neighbors. 

glad we ’ve come here to live, papa, where I can 
see those children play;” and Mr. Elliot, as he 
watched the child’s face, all alive with interest 
and amusement, smiled to himself as he remem- 
bered that the one thing about this new house 
which he had considered objectionable, was the 
vicinity of these two small houses, “sure to be 
overrun with dirty, noisy children, as all such 
houses are.” That was what he had said to the 
agent from whom he purchased his lot; but now, 
as he looked at his little daughter’s bright face, 
he wondered if the small noisy crew in the next 
yard might not be one of the best features about 
this new home. 

Suddenly the baby, altogether by accident, 
really did succeed in turning completely over ; 
whereat he was so astonished that he lay stock 
still, uncertain whether to laugh or cry. As the 
small heels went over, they struck Tag, who was 
just then standing on his hind legs and holding 
out his right paw to the “ giant.” Tag, not 
seeing what struck him, gave a yelp and sprang 
forward, and attempting to dash between 
Tommy’s feet, knocked him over the baby, and 
then tumbled over the two himself. Marianna 
and Johnny burst out laughing at the funny 
tumble, and Lillian’s sweet, rippling laugh rang 


Marianna’s Little Girl. 


165 

out, too. It drew all eyes to the balcony, and 
put a sudden stop to the circus performance. 

“ O, it’s my little girl,” said Marianna, in a 
whisper, snatching off her shaving wig, and gaz- 
ing eagerly up at the pretty child. 

Tommy sprang up, very red in the face, and 
yanking off the big jacket, and dropping it over 
the pillow that slipped to the ground, put his 
hands in his pockets and gazed up, too — though, 
true to his habit of never agreeing with his sis- 
ter if he could help it, he muttered under his 
breath, “ She ain’t your little girl, neither, Ma- 
rianna Brown” — while bashful Johnny turned 
his back, though he wanted to look just as 
much as the others. 

“ They won’t play any more now, little one ; 
we may as well go in,” Mr. Elliot said, and Lil- 
lian reluctantly followed him down to the library. 

“ Such a lot of noisy children as there are 
next door, Mr. Elliot,” his wife said, as he passed 
through her room. “ I really do n’t see how my 
poor head is going to endure it. One comfort — 
we shall get away to Newport soon.” 

“ O, papa, must we go to Newport soon? I ’d 
rather stay here,” Lillian whispered in her 
father’s ear, as he picked her up in his arms and 
carried her down-stairs. 


1 66 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“ We won’t go till the real hot weather 
comes,” he whispered back, with a kiss. 

From this day on, there were few lonely hours 
for the little Lillian. Every morning after break- 
fast she would go out in her balcony, and sit or 
lie in the hammock that had been hung there 
for dier, and watch the children in the next yard ; 
and the small Browns, delighted with the evi- 
dent interest and appreciation of their beautiful 
little neighbor, soon began to play the things 
that she most enjoyed. 

It was a week before she ventured to speak 
to them, however. Then one morning, when 
she appeared on her balcony, instead of silently 
looking and laughing, she stood on the end of 
the balcony nearest them and called out in her 
sweet, ringing voice, “What’s your name, little 
girl ?” 

“ She means you,” said Tommy, nudging his 
sister. 

Marianna cast a scornful glance at him and 
snapped out, “ Did you s’pose I thought she 
meant you?” but the frown vanished, and a new 
and strangely soft expression came into the 
black eyes as she answered, “ I ’m Marianna 
Brown then slowly, and half shyly, she added, 
“ What ’s yours ?” 


Marianna’s Littee Gire. 167 

“ Lillian Drayton Elliot. What ’s the name 
of the fat little boy ?” 

“He’s Tommy,” said Marianna; but that 
young gentleman curtly amended this statement. 

“ ’Ain’t, neither. I ’m Thomas Gordon 
Brown.” Then melting as he looked up into 
the blue eyes that were sweet enough to mbit 
a much harder heart than his, he added : “ They 
call me Tommy, though.” 

“And the pale little boy with big eyes — 
what’s his name?” pursued the small inquirer. 

“ He ’s Johnny, and my big brother is Dick, 
and the baby’s real name is David Solomon,” 
said Marianna, anticipating the further questions 
she was sure would follow. 

“ He ’s a real pretty baby — and he does n’t 
ever cry, does he?” said the little girl. “And 
is that all ’cept the big girl that looks so kind ?” 

“Janie; yes, that’s all,” said Marianna; and 
thereupon turned the tables and asked ques- 
tions till she had learned all about her new 
neighbors that Lillian could tell. 

From this time the acquaintance progressed 
rapidly up to a certain point. Mrs. Elliot would 
not allow her little daughter to go any nearer 
to the next-door children than the balcony, but 
her husband had insisted that the child should 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


i 68 

be allowed to talk across from the balcony and 
watch her small neighbors as much as she chose, 
and with this permission Lillian was well con- 
tent; and Janie was more than pleased that an 
attraction had been found strong enough to keep 
Marianna and Tommy contented to play in the 
yard and not on the streets through the long 
summer days while the mother could not come 
to them or even write to them. 

Marianna was a born leader among the chil- 
dren ; for it was she who always thought of the 
new games, or new ways of playing old ones, 
and to lonely little Lillian all these games and 
frolics were new and intensely interesting. 

But July put an end to these, happy days, for 
the Elliots went away to Newport; and of course 
Lillian went too — though she pleaded hard to 
stay at home — and with her went Marianna’s 
sunshine, and the games in the yard seemed all 
at once to lose their interest. 


CHAPTER XV. 


AT THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL. 

I T was the very next day after the departure 
of the Elliots that Marianna, wiping dishes 
in the kitchen, heard Helen calling to her. She 
went listlessly out to see what was wanted. 
Helen was looking over the fence. 

“Marianna,” she said in her bright way, “I 
ain going up to the children’s hospital to carry 
some flowers. Do n’t you want to go with me?” 

Marianna’s listlessness vanished and her face 
brightened. “ O yes. I ’ll tell Janie I ’m go- 
ing,” she cried. 

“Yes,” Helen called after her, “go and ask 
Janie if she can spare you; and if she can, come 
in as soon as you are ready.” One swift glance 
from the black eyes told Helen that the child 
had not failed to understand the reminder so 
delicately given. She was back in a moment 
crying, “Janie says I can.” 

“ I wonder if Tommy would like to go, too,” 
suggested Helen, seeing the boy sitting on the 
fence, looking as if he did not know what to do 
with himself. 


12 


169 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


170 


“ Can I ?” lie asked, eagerly. He would n’t 
have admitted the fact for the world ; but all the 
same he knew that, with Marianna gone, the 
morning in the yard would be long and dull 
with only Johnny and the baby. Marianna 
might be imperious and quick-tempered, but 
things were never dull where she was. 

“ What you going to do with all them flow- 
ers?” he questioned, as they set forth ; and when 
Helen said they were to be given to the sick 
children at the hospital, Tommy said : “Hull ! I 
forgot suthin’. You go on, and I’ll catch up;” 
and back through the house he dashed like a 
small whirlwind. Helen and Marianna walked 
on slowly, and presently Tommy came puffing 
after them, a big bunch of scarlet runners in 
his chubby hand. Marianna eyed them with 
scorn. “ 01’ stringy things like them ain’t 
any good for sick folks,” she said ; but Helen 
broke in quickly: “O, yes they are. I’m sure 
Tommy will find some little boy who will be de- 
lighted with them.” 

It was quite a long walk to the hospital ; but 
Helen chose the shady streets and went slowly, 
as the day was warm. 

The two children had never been in a hos- 
pital before, and the long rooms and the rows of 


At the Children’s Hospital. i 7 i 

little white beds, with a sick child in every one, 
impressed them both deeply. 

As they followed Helen and the nurse from 
bed to bed, and saw the white, sad ehild-faces 
brighten at sight of the flowers, and faint, un- 
certain smiles banish for a moment the lines of 
pain and suffering, a new look came into Mari- 
anna’s bold, black eyes, and Tommy felt as 
though — if he hadn’t been a boy — he should 
certainly have cried. 

From ward to ward they went, Helen putting 
into the hand of each little one a cluster of blos- 
soms, letting the children choose which ones 
they would, and giving them always with a word 
and a smile that made the little faces look long- 
ingly after her as she turned away. 

At last they came to a cot where lay such a 
poor little shadow of a child as even Helen 
had never seen or pictured to herself before. 
He was perhaps a year older than Tommy, but O, 
so thin and pinched ! But for his size, his face 
might have been that of one four times his age, so 
deep were the marks of want and sufferingupon it. 

Tommy’s eyes widened with horror as he 
heard the nurse whisper to Helen that this lit- 
tle fellow had just been brought to the hospital 
by the Humane Society, who had found him 


172 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


almost dead from starvation and tlie brutal 
treatment of his own father and mother. 

The child glanced at Helen, a pitiful shadow 
of a smile moving his pale lips as she laid two 
fragrant carnations on his pillow, but his eyes 
rested longest on Tommy. 

“ Go and shake hands with him, very gently,” 
said the nurse. “ I think he wants you to;” and 
Tommy slowly edged up to the bedside, and 
took the poor little hand in his. He shivered as 
the tiny, claw-like fingers lay limp in his fat, 
healthy hand. Then, dropping his bunch of 
scarlet runners on the bed, he turned and ran 
from the room. When the others followed, 
Tommy was standing in the hall, his hands in 
his pockets, looking out of the window ; but his 
eyes were suspiciously red, and so was his small 
freckled nose, and Marianna, though her sharp 
eyes noted these facts, made no comment. 

They rode back in the cable-car — a ride 
which, at any other time, would have been full 
of interest to the children, whose rides thus far 
had been few — but to-day they were both very 
silent. Tommy only spoke once all the way 
home, and that was to say to Helen: “Is that 
what you and Bert have such a big garden for, 
so’s to carry flowers to the sick children?” 








































* 



















' 
















AT THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL. Page 172. 


At the Children’s Hospital. 


i73 


“Yes, to carry them there, and to poor sick 
people not in the hospital — people who have n’t 
any place for a garden, or any time to make 
one.” 

“ When you goin’ up there — to the hospital — 
again ?” pursued Tommy. 

“ I usually go two or three times a month,” 
Helen answered. 

Marianna had a great deal to tell at the table 
that night about the children’s hospital ; but 
Tommy said very little. That night, however, 
he went early to bed with the baby, and when 
Janie gave him a good-night kiss, he threw his 
arms about her neck, and gave her two hard 
kisses as he whispered, “ I wish mother ’d come 
home, do n’t you, Janie?” and then he added in a 
hushed voice, very unlike his usual noisy tones, 
“Janie, I thought mothers were always good ; 
and that poor little boy at the hospital was al- 
most dead, and his mother did it;” and Tommy 
buried his face in the pillow, and sobbed until 
the astonished baby cried in sympathy. That 
dried Tommy’s tears at once, and when, half an 
hour later, Janie ran up to see that all was well , 
she found him fast asleep, with the baby’s 
golden head cuddled down against his rough 
brown one. 


i74 


Nkxt-Door Neighbors. 


The next morning he was up early and out in 
the yard, where Dick was already at work; for 
Dick’s pride in his garden had grown steadily, 
especially since he had been employed at the 
florist’s. He was constantly bringing home 
choice slips and seeds, which he never failed to 
share with Bert Morris. 

“Hallo, youngster! how came you up so 
early?” he called out as Tommy appeared. 

“O, I got up,” said Tommy. “Say, Dick, I 
want suthin’ else ’sides scarlet runners in my 
garden now. Won’t you give me some plants 
out of yours?” 

“O, what do you want them for?” said Dick. 
“Your garden ’s no good. You can see the 
flowers just as well in mine.” 

“ But I can’t pick any of yours,” said Tommy, 
dolefully. 

“Well, what do you want to pick ’em for? 
I keep all the vases in the house full.” 

“Yes, I know,” said Tommy, turning away 
with’ a disappointed air. “ I ’ll ask Bert for 
some,” he added. 

Dick looked up quickly. “No you won’t ask 
Bert for any,” he said. “If you must have ’em, 
I s’pose I can give you a few. Here, take these 
pansies,” and he carefully dug up several roots. 


At the Children’s Hospital. 175 

Tommy’s eyes brightened, and he was soon 
busy setting the pansies in his own little plot 
Seeing how carefully he worked, Dick added a 
couple of scarlet geraniums, and a few slips of 
other free blooming plants, and Tommy’s small 
corner was well stocked. 

“Did Dick give you all those?” Marianna 
asked, later in the day, as she looked from 
Tommy’s domain to her own, where the tall sun- 
flowers were already lifting their glowing yellow 
faces above the fence. “Well, I think he might 
have given me some, too. I ’in just going to 
pull up every one of those great, ugly things of 
mine,” and she cast a look of disgust at the big, 
coarse blossoms. 

“Not your sunflowers, Marianna!” cried 
Helen, peeping over the fence, and dropping a 
big crimson rose on top of the child’s head, as 
she tugged away at one of the big stalks that 
she was trying to uproot. 

“Why not? I don’t like ’em,” said Mari- 
anna, picking up the rose, and looking up at 
her neighbor. 

“My! I wouldn’t want to throw away so 
much money,” said Helen. 

“ Money ! What do you mean ? You ’re just 
making fun,” said Marianna. 


176 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“ No, P m not,” answered Helen. “ Do n’t you 
know that sunflower-seeds are splendid food for 
poultry? You can sell all yours easily at the 
seed-stores.” 

“ O, how nice !” exclaimed Marianna,, begin- 
ning to press down the loosened earth around 
the plant she had been about to uproot. “ But 
then,” she added, “ I did want to grow some 
pretty flowers — same as Tommy ’s goin’ to do — 
for those sick children, you know.” 

“ O, if that ’s what you want the flowers for, 
Marianna, you can have just as many as you 
want of ours; we ’ve got plenty,” said Helen. 
“And if you like, you know, you can use some 
of your sunflower money to buy something for 
the children.” 

“O, thank you, Helen!” exclaimed Marianna; 
“you always think of just the best thing.” 

Helen smiled, never guessing that Marianna 
had never in her life before made such a remark 
as that. “ But ’seems ’s if,” added Marianna, 
looking at Dick’s garden-beds all aglow with 
bloom, “ seems ’s if when we’ve got such lots 
in our own yard, I need n’t to take any ol 
yours.” 

“ Maybe we can get Dick to go up to the 
hospital with us some time,” said Helen, “ and 


At the Children’s Hospital. 177 

then he will want to carry every one of his flow- 
ers up there, won’t he?” 

“Guess he will,” said Marianna, while Tommy 
said emphatically : 

“Yes sir-ee.” 

Dick looked so tired when he came home to 
supper that night, that Janie watched him anx- 
iously, and begged him not to go into Bert’s. 

“O shucks! ’Course I ’in goin’. I’m all 
right enough, only a bit tired,” he answered, a 
trifle sharply, as he took up his note-book and 
went out. 

Dick had worked steadily and patiently 
through the past weeks, appreciating the help 
that Bert gave him, and anxious to make the 
most of it. Typewriting he had quickly mas- 
tered, and could now do as good work on the 
little machine as Bert himself could do. The 
shorthand could not be gained so speedily. It 
took comparatively little time to know the char- 
acters thoroughly; but to learn to write them 
rapidly from dictation, and to read them when 
they were written, required long practice. Now 
the boys could help each other, one dictating 
while the other wrote, and then exchanging 
duties. 

The more Dick saw of Bert Morris, the more 


78 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


he liked and respected him ; yet he always felt 
that there was something about him that he did 
not quite understand. He understood fully Bert’s 
manly ambition to make a name and a place for 
himself in the world. In fact Dick had grown 
very ambitious himself of late, and wondered 
often how he could have been content a year 
ago to idle away his time out of school, or lounge 
in Averill’s grocery. He was ashamed to think 
that he had been not only willing, but eager to 
take a place in that store, and half his desire for 
it, he knew, was because he liked then to be with 
the rough, bad boys who made that their loafing- 
place. He meant to be every whit as upright 
and honest — yes, and as polite and gentlemanly 
too — as Bert Morris ; but, after all, Dick felt in a 
vague way, that he could not have expressed him- 
self, that Bert had something that he had not — 
some motive, some strong, controlling purpose. 
Dick never had put all this into words; but he 
felt it all the same, and it made him somehow 
dissatisfied with himself. 

“Say, old fellow, what’s the matter? You 
look kind of seedy,” was Bert’s greeting to- 
night. 

“I’m tired, I guess,” Dick said, dropping 
wearily into a chair near the open window. 


At the Children’s Hospital. 


179 


“ No wonder, after being hard at work all 
day, and on such a scorcher as this has been, 
too. I say, let the work go to-night, Dick. I 
do n’t feel like doing anything, either.” 

“O no,” said Dick, starting up ; “I must get 
something done.” 

“You ’ll have to do it all yourself, then,” said 
Bert, lazily. “I’m going to take a rest to- 
night.” 

“See here, now, Morris, you say that just be- 
cause you think I ’m knocked-up, and I won’t 
have it. I ’m not too tired for work, and I must 
do some.” 

He spoke sharply, and Bert looked at him in 
surprise. 

“ See here, Dick, what time did you get up 
this morning?” he asked. 

“Five o’clock — why?” answered Dick. 

“ And worked in the garden till breakfast- 
time ?” 

“Yes, except when I was chopping kindling- 
wood for Janie.” 

“And straight from breakfast to work?” pur- 
sued Bert. 

“Of course, as I always do,” Dick answered. 

“How long a nooning did you take?” 

“ Fifteen minutes. I get all my seeds and 


i8o 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


cuttings, you know, for the overtime I work, and 
I got a new chrysanthemum for that three-quar- 
ters of an hour.” 

“ You leave Small’s at six, do n’t you ?” Bert 
went on, paying no heed to Dick’s last remark. 

“Yes.” 

“ But ’t was seven when you came home to- 
night. I happened to see you coming just as 
we finished supper — coming at a pretty fast trot 
you were, too — too fast for such a day as this.” 

Dick was silent for a moment. Then he said : 

“ I go round two or three times a week to 
see that mother ’s all right. She can’t come 
home or write to us, you know. Janie writes to 
her every week; but I found she was fretting 
because she could n’t get any word back from 
mother, so I t went round to the house where 
she ’s nursing, and waited there till I saw one of 
the servants at the window, and I told her to 
send mother to the window, and I could talk to 
her from the sidewalk.” 

“That’s a fine scheme for them, Dick; but 
I do n’t believe either of them would want you 
to do it on a hot night like this, and when 
you ’ve been hard at work all day.” 

“ Anybody ’d think I was a baby, to hear you 
talk,” said Dick. “ A fellow does n’t expect to 


At the Children’s Hosptiae. 181 

make his way in the world without ever getting 
tired, I s’pose,” said Dick. 

“Of course not,” assented Bert, quietly; “but 
the fellow who overworks his body or his brain 
is n’t the one who is going to get very high in 
the world. Mother ’s hammered that into me 
ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper ; 
and now,” he added gravely, “ now that I realize 
that I do n’t belong to myself, I realize, too, that 
I ’m bound to keep myself in the best working 
condition possible.” 

It was on Dick’s tongue to say, “ Do n’t be- 
long to yourself? Whom do you belong to, then?” 
but something seemed to hold him back, and 
after a moment’s silence he began talking of 
something else. 

Dick lay awake long that night. The upper 
rooms in the small frame house were close and 
breathless, and he could not sleep — and Bert’s 
words kept coming back to him. 

He knew, in a vague, uncertain way, that 
Bert’s life was governed and controlled by some 
higher rule than any that he knew ; but he said 
to himself, “ I ’ll show him that I can be just 
as straight and honest, and as much of a man 
as he can, if I ain’t ” — but sleep overtook Dick 
at that point, and he did not finish his sentence. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


DICK’S TEMPTATION. 

NE morning, a day or two later, the four 



V-/ little Browns were having a fine time in 
the yard with Tag, who by this time had already 
become so devoted to the children that he was n’t 
quite sure which of the little frame houses was 
his home. The board taken off the dividing 
fence on Mother Brown’s birthday had never 
been nailed on again, and the opening was often 
used as a gateway by the young people of both 
families, and even more frequently by Tag, who, 
as soon as Helen had given him his breakfast, 
would skip through the fence and hang about 
the other kitchen, with an imploring look in his 
eyes that would have convinced anybody who 
did n’t know the contrary, that he was in a starv- 
ing condition. But the children were now so 
fond of him that every one of the four was sure 
to have put aside something for him, and Tag 
knew it just as well as they did, and never failed 
to appear and beg for it. 

It could hardly be called begging, however, 
in one way, for certainly the homely little dog 


Dick’s Temptation. 


83 


fully repaid the children, who never wearied of 
his tricks and capers, and were never happier 
than when teaching him something new. 

On this morning they were trying to make 
him walk on his forepaws with his heels in the 
air, which was one of Tommy’s favorite amuse- 
ments. Tag did not quite relish this perform- 
ance, and the cute way in which he tried to get 
out of it by doing some of his other tricks, set 
the children into fits of laughter. 

As the merry play went on, two big, shabby 
fellows came slinking through the alley back of 
the Brown’s yard. Hearing the shouts and 
laughter, one of them stooped and peeped 
through a knothole in the fence, while the other 
peered through a crack. 

“ I say, Jim, that dog’d be a drawing card in 
a show. Can’t we crib him ?” 

“Tough job with all them kids ’round, but 
it ’s worth the trying. ’T would n’t take much 
trainin’ to make him equal to any of the pups in 
Reilly’s dog-show,” replied the other. 

“What’ll we do, then? Wait here till the 
kids scatter?” 

“I reckon;” and the two dropped down be- 
side the fence to await their opportunity. 

About this time Tag began to lose interest 


1 84 Next-Door Neighbors. 

in the play. He broke away from the children 
and ran to the alley fence, sniffing and barking 
at the unknown enemies he scented, till the 
boys lurking there, afraid of being discovered, 
slunk silently down the alley beyond reach ot 
Tag’s sharp nose. They were tired enough to 
be pretty ugly before the children went in to 
dinner, and Tag concluded it was time to return 
to his real home, and let Helen know how 
hungry he was. But Helen was not in the 
kitchen, and Tag could not open the screen door, 
and nobody came to open it for him in response 
to his two quick barks, so he curled himself up 
on the steps and went to sleep. He really was 
tired after his morning performance with the 
children, and he was soon so sound asleep that 
he did not stir when a big, barefooted boy, with 
an evil face, swung himself silently over the 
fence, and with noiseless footsteps approached 
him. One quick movement, and Tag’s head 
was covered with a dirty handkerchief ; a strong 
hand held his jaws so that he could not bark, 
and he was picked up and handed over the fence 
to the other boy, who stood ready to receive him, 
and in two minutes dog and boys were out 
of sight. 

It was not until Bert came home at night, 


Dick’s Temptation. 


185 

and whistled for him in vain, that it was dis- 
covered that the dog was really gone. Helen 
had supposed that he was still with the children, 
and they had supposed he was at home. Great 
was the lamentation among the little Browns 
when they knew that their four-footed playmate 
was missing. Johnny and the baby sobbed 
openly, and even Marianna dabbed at her eyes 
with a rather grimy handkerchief, while Tommy 
only kept himself from joining in the melancholy 
chorus by poking his hands deep into his pockets 
and frequently reminding himself that “ boys 
do n’t cry when they ’re ’most seven years old.” 

Bert put an advertisement in the paper that 
night, offering a reward of five dollars for the 
recovery of the dog; for he had become so fond of 
the affectionate little creature that he could not 
endure the thought of losing him. 

“ I do n’t expect it will do any good, though,” 
he said to Helen ; “ for if somebody stole him out 
of the yard, it ’s not likely five dollars will bring 
him back; but I can’t offer any more than that.” 

Bert was mistaken, however. The very next 
evening a shabby, slouching boy appeared, lead- 
ing Tag by a string. He had found the dog 
“over in the vacant lots, there,” he said, and 
had not supposed, until he saw the advertise- 
13 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


i 86 

ment, that he belonged to any one, as he had 
no collar on. 

The dog was wild with delight to be home 
again, and as he frisked about and did every- 
thing but talk to express his happiness, Bert did 
not grudge the five dollars that he had paid to 
regain his pet. 

“ I ’ll get a collar to-morrow with my name 
and address on it,” he said; “but, Helen, if that 
fellow told the truth, the Brown children must 
have let him out in the street.” 

“He might have slipped out without their 
knowledge when the front door was open,” 
Helen answered; “though they were sure that 
he was n’t in their house at all yesterday.” 

“Well, we’ll be more careful hereafter, and 
warn them to be, too,” Bert answered. “ I de- 
clare, he wants to go in there and see them now, 
I do believe,” he added, as the dog ran to the 
screen door and barked. 

“Do let him go — the children will be so de- 
lighted! Janie said that Johnny and the baby 
had wept at intervals all day because he was 
missing,” said Helen, and as Bert opened the 
door, the dog sprang out and made a dash for 
the fence. 

In his glad excitement he did not notice the 


Dick’s Temptation. 


187 


dark figure, crouched in the shadow beside the 
steps, nor suspect the other dark shadow wait- 
ing in the old place outside the fence. Tag’s 
sharp, imperative bark at the Brown’s kitchen 
door brought Janie and Dick in a rush to open 
it, while down the stairs in their night-gowns 
came Marianna and Johnny and Tommy, all 
shouting with delight, and such a hugging and 
kissing as that little yellow dog got ! And just 
as the happy tumult was subsiding a little, down 
pattered the baby, awakened by the barking and 
shouting, and Tag, forgetting his manners in his 
joyful excitement, sprang upon him so impetu- 
ously that he knocked the baby over, and then 
stood over him, licking the little one’s face, 
wljile the baby crowed with delight, and lay flat 
on his back, never attempting to get up. 

But presently Janie bundled the children 
back to bed, and Tag, remembering that he had 
had no supper, ran to the door to signify that 
he was ready to go home, and, trotting gayly 
back in happy forgetfulness of lurking enemies, 
was pounced upon and captured and bundled 
over the fence for a second time. 

“That ’s the best joke I ever done,” chuckled 
the larger of the boys, as they hurried on with 
the struggling dog. “ Here we ’ve got the dog 


i88 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


and the reward too,” and he slapped the pocket 
into which Bert’s five-dollar bill had gone. “An’ 
that ain’t all,” he went on; “who do you think 
the greeny is that paid me his five dollars so 
slick? It ’s that high and mighty young gentle- 
man what took the dog away from us over in 
Burton’s woods last spring an’ brought the cop 
on us. I spotted him the minute I clapped 
eyes on him.” 

The other slapped his thigh and laughed 
aloud. 

“Hooroar!” he cried. “Then this ain’t his 
dog at all. It ’s our ’n. I ’d kick the cur to 
death this minute if ’twar n’t for the money we 
kin make out of him. Hain’t we served out 
our fine young master in tiptop style this time, 
though?” and he leaned against a lamp-post to 
have his laugh out. 

This second loss of the dog was discovered in 
a very few minutes ; for Janie ran in to congratu- 
late the Morrises upon his recovery. 

Bert saw through the thing at once. 

“The rascals!” he exclaimed, white with 
anger. “If that wasn’t a bold trick! That 
scamp must have taken my money, and then 
hidden in our yard or yours, and grabbed Tag 
up again. Got the money and the dog both. I 


Dick’s Temptation. 189 

declare, mother, I ’ll put it in the hands of a 
detective.” 

“ It will cost a good deal,” suggested Mrs. 
Morris ; but Dick, who had followed Janie, put 
in, “I’ll pay half the cost to get him back.” 

Great was the grief and dismay of the children 
when they learned the next morning of this 
second loss. 

“ It ’s ’most worse ’n if he had n’t come back 
at all,” sobbed Johnny, while Marianna, with 
one of her rare bursts of sentiment, brought a 
smile to Helen’s face as she quoted in a melan- 
choly tone meant for her brother’s ear alone : 
“ O no, Johnny. ( It’s better to have loved and 
lost, than never to have loved at all.’ ” 

The days passed on, and nothing was heard 
of poor Tag, though both Bert and Dick watched 
for him whenever they were in the streets. 

Dick was getting on well at the florist’s. He 
got sixteen dollars a month now, and had been 
promised twenty dollars at the end of six months 
if he still gave satisfaction; and he intended to 
give satisfaction, if any effort of his could ac- 
complish it. 

One Saturday night, about this time, his em- 
ployer said to him : 

“Dick, do you mind if I pay you partly in 


i go 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


pennies to-night? Old Latimer paid his bill 
to-night all in change, and I ’in short of small 
bills.” 

“All right. Makes no difference to me,” an- 
swered Dick. 

“Well, then, I ’ll give you these four rolls 
just as he gave them to me — there ’s a hundred 
pennies in each roll,” and he tossed over to the 
boy the four little packets. 

“ Never had such a heavy four dollars before,” 
said Dick, as he put the rolls in his pocket. 

He took them out that night when he was 
getting ready for bed, and as he put them on the 
table, the string slipped and one roll flew open, 
scattering the pennies all over the table and 
floor. 

“That ’s the beauty of being paid in pennies 
— regular chicken-feed I call it!” grumbled the 
boy, as he chased the small coins over the floor. 
“Now I ’ll have to count to see how many are 
missing. Must be new ones — they ’re so bright. 
You ’re a shiner,” he added, as he picked up the 
last one. Looking at it closely he muttered, 
“No wonder — a fiver.” Instead of a penny this 
last coin was a five-dollar gold-piece. 

“Won’t Small be provoked to find what a 
mistake he has made?” he went on thinking. 

o 


Dick’s Temptation. 


191 

“ Paying me four dollars and ninety-nine cents 
too much. If I could only keep it now, it would 
run my bank account up finely.” For Dick had 
already deposited ten dollars of his earnings in 
the Penny Savings Bank. 

Suddenly a thought came to him. “ That 
gold-piece does n’t belong to Small. He said 
old Mr. Latimer paid him that roll of pennies 
and he had n’t opened it — and maybe it does n’t 
belong to Latimer any more than to Small. 
’T ain’t likely he ’d put a gold-piece in for a 
penny. Probably he got the roll just as it ’t was 
from somebody else.” 

Dick was not a bit sleepy now. He thought 
the matter over and over, and finally came to 
the conclusion that he had just as much right 
to that gold-piece as Mr. Small or Mr. Latimer 
had. He tried not to think of the matter the next 
day ; but it was Sunday, and with no work to oc- 
cupy his thoughts, this would keep coming back 
to him. He longed to be at work again, yet 
dreaded to see Mr. Small. He worked so hard 
on Monday that Mr. Small gave him a warning. 

“ It ’s too hot weather to pitch in like that, 
Dick,” he said ; “ no need of it, either. Wait 
till next fall, and then you can put in your extra 
licks.” 


192 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


But the boy worked on with a sort of feverish 
eagerness to leave himself no time for thought 
of anything but work. 

It was his regular night to go and see his 
mother; but when he had nearly reached the 
house he turned away and went home. He did n’t 
feel like meeting his mother’s clear eyes that 
night. 

For a week Dick carried that gold-piece about 
in his pocket-book before he could make up his 
mind to put it in the bank, and when at last he 
did deposit it, and saw the sum total of fifteen 
dollars instead of ten dollars in his new bank- 
book, it did n’t give him a bit of pleasure. He 
wished he had carried the gold-piece back to 
Mr. Small ; but he was ashamed to do it now 
after keeping it a week. 

“I might say I ’d only just opened the roll,” 
he thought; then with a look of deep disgust he 
muttered to himself: “Yes, Dick Brown, you ’d 
better go and lie about it now. As if it is n’t 
bad enough to have — taken it in the first place !” 
A deep, hot blush colored his face as he hesi- 
tated over that word “taken,” which he felt 
ought to have been “stolen.” 

“Come, old man, what’s the matter with 
you?” Bert said to him that evening, with a 


Dick’s Temptation. 


i93 


friendly slap on his back. 44 You ’ve been as 
glum as a sick owl for a week past. Anything 
the matter?” 

Dick shook off the hand as he answered im- 
patiently : 44 Matter — no ! What should be the 
matter? This weather ’s enough to make any- 
body glum, I should say. It ’s hot enough here 
to-night to roast eggs,” and he ran his fingers 
wearily through his thick hair. 

44 ’T is hot, that ’s a fact,” answered Bert. 
44 S’posing we take a vacation — an evening va- 
cation, that is — till a cool wave comes? I wish 
one would come soon, for these hot days wilt 
mother so. I wish I could pack her and Helen 
off to the mountains or the seashore,” he added, 
with a sigh. 

At home Janie wondered anxiously what 
could be the matter with Dick to make him so 
silent and so gruff. She could scarcely get a 
word out of him nowadays, and he would not sit 
down at all in the house except at meal-times. 
If he was not at work in the garden after sup- 
per, he went off for long walks, coming in late^ 
and going right up-stairs to bed. 44 O dear ! I 
wish mother would come home,” Janie sighed 
often in these days. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


DICK’S CONFESSION. 

NE evening Dick came home late, looking 



more like himself than he had for days. 
He was up early the next morning, at work as 
usual over his flower-beds, but keeping his ears 
open for the cheerful whistle which usually an- 
nounced that Bert was at work on the other side 
of the fence. The whistle rang out presently, 
and Bert’s head appeared over the fence. 

“At it as usual, old man,” he said. “ What’s 
the latest addition?” for Dick’s garden space 
was so well filled that he brought home now 
only very choice cuttings, to find space for 
which he had usually to dig up some more 
common plant, whereat Marianna and the boys 
rejoiced, as they at once claimed the discarded 
flowers. 

“ Have n’t brought home anything but that 
new rose-cutting this week,” said Dick. “But 
see here, what are you going to do this evening ?” 

“ Keep cool — if I can,” laughed Bert. 

“ I want you to go with me to a show down 
on the avenue. I went last night. Tickets were 


Dick’s Confession. 


i95 


left in the store, and Mr. Small gave ’em to me. 
I ’ve got two for to-night — will you go?” He 
waited for his friend’s answer with an eagerness 
that Bert could not understand. 

“What kind of a show is it?” he asked. 

“Wait till you see it,” said Dick. “I tell 
you I was interested in it or I would n’t want to 
go again to-night. Do say you ’ll go, Bert.” 

“All right, I’ll go,” Bert answered. “And 
now I must go to work. Your garden ’s getting 
so far ahead of mine that I have to dig to keep 
anywhere near you.” 

“O well,” Dick answered, “you see I mean 
to make it my business, while it ’s only play for 
you.” 

Bert looked quite disgusted when he saw into 
what kind of a place Dick was leading him that 
evening. He stopped in the doorway and re- 
monstrated. 

“See here, Dick,” he said, “don’t let’s go 
in. It ’s a regular cheap-John Bowery show. 
If you want to go somewhere, choose something 
better than this.” But Dick seized his arm and 
pulled him along. 

“Come on,” he said, eagerly ; “you prom- 
ised.” And Bert reluctantly followed him into 
a small hall already half filled with a poor and 


96 


Nkxt-Door Neighbors. 


rough-looking audience, mostly of boys and 
young men. 

“Isn’t that our detective?” he whispered, 
indicating a man sitting in a seat just in front 
of them. Dick glanced carelessly at the man. 
“Looks a little like him,” he said; “but see, 
Bert, they ’re going to begin.” 

“ A dog-show !” said Bert, scornfully. “ Why 
did n’t you bring Tommy and the baby along?” 
But the next moment he gave a start, and looked 
keenly at the row of dogs, now seated in a semi- 
circle on the platform. 

“ Dick,” he cried in an eager whisper, “I do 
believe it ’s Tag ! Did you think so ? Is that 
what you brought me here for?” 

“That’s it,” said Dick, his face as full of 
eager interest as Bert’s ; “ and that is our de- 
tective. I got him to come here to-night. But 
how can we tell whether it is Tag or not ? All 
these little yellow dogs look alike.” 

“That’s so,” said Bert; “and his chopped 
tail would n’t prove anything. I believe he ’d 
come if I whistled or called him.” 

“ If it is Tag he would,” said Dick. “I just 
wandered in here last night, because I did n’t 
know what to do with myself, and I sat down 
in front near the platform. I believe it is Tag, 


Dick’s Confession. 


i97 


and I believe he knew me then, for he looked 
right at me and whined once ; but he was afraid 
of the whip that man keeps in his hand, you see.” 

“ Let ’s slip along on the seat, so as to get 
right behind our detective,” said Bert. 

So the two boys slipped quietly along the 
empty seat, and watched the performance for 
awhile, before Bert ventured to lean forward and 
speak to the detective. 

“I believe that little yellow dog is mine,” he 
whispered ; “but how can I get hold of him ?” 

“Think he’d come if you should call or 
whistle?” asked the man. 

“I ’in sure he would,” Bert answered. “Shall 
I try him?” 

“ Not yet,” said the man, hastily. “Wait till 
the performance is over. Any way you can 
identify him ?” 

Bert thought a moment, then he said doubt- 
fully: “I can only think of one thing that may 
help a little. Tag — my dog — had lost a piece 
of one toe on his left fore foot.” 

“Good!” said the man. “Then, if this dog 
has lost a piece of the toe on his left fore foot, 
and if he comes to you and shows that he knows 
you, when you call him, I think that we may 
venture to claim him.” 


198 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Very impatiently the boys waited for the close 
of the entertainment. They were far too eager 
to know if the little yellow dog was indeed the 
lost Tag, to take any interest in the other dogs, 
though they really were very well trained, and 
at any other time even Bert would have enjoyed 
their bright and intelligent performances. Now 
he was in a fever of anxiety lest the man should 
refuse to acknowledge his claim, and give up 
the dog to him. 

“Now whistle or call,” said the detective, 
when the man was about to lead the dogs off 
the stage. 

Bert whistled. The manager looked up to 
see what the whistle meant, and as he turned 
his head something small and yellow went flying 
past him over the seats and up the aisle, and in 
an instant the little dog was in Bert’s arms, 
licking his face and wagging his stumpy tail, 
and trying with all his might to show how happy 
he was to see his master again. 

“Here, you, bring back that dog!” shouted 
the manager, furiously. “Sam”— to his assist- 
ant — “go and bring him back here.” 

But the detective, who was examining the 
dog’s left fore foot, quietly threw open his coat 
and displayed his badge as the man approached. 


Dick’s Confession. 


199 


“You can’t have this dog,” he said, quietly. 
“We can prove that he was stolen from this 
young man. The dog has proved himself that 
this is his master.” 

But now the manager himself, having se- 
cured his other dogs, came running up to the 
group, angrily demanding his dog. 

His face changed, and he ceased to threaten 
as he saw the detective’s badge; but he still in- 
sisted that the dog belonged to him. 

“How long have you had him?” he asked, 
and Bert, before the detective could stop him, 
answered, “Since last spring.” 

A wicked light shone in the man’s eyes at 
this reply, and he said quickly: “That’s it. I 
lost him last winter. You know yourself he 
was a trained dog when you got him. Did n’t he 
know a lot of tricks before you learned him any?” 

This time Bert did not answer, but his si- 
lence and his anxious face as he clasped the dog 
more closely, answered for him. 

“ Come, now, you can’t take that dog off,” 
said the man, pressing closer as Bert and Dick 
made a move to go ; but the detective put out 
his hand, at the same time blowing a call on a 
whistle he drew from his pocket. 

At the sight of two policemen, who promptly 


200 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


answered the call — having been stationed out- 
side by the detective — the man ceased to blus- 
ter; but he sullenly declared that he would carry 
the case into the courts — he was n’t going to be 
cheated out of his property in that fashion. 

So the boys went home with their prize, but 
far from easy in their minds. The detective, as 
he walked on with them, asked how the dog 
came into Bert’s possession, and when he heard 
the story, said : “Very likely the man told the 
truth then, for, from what you say, the dog had 
been trained, and we can’t prove that it did n’t 
belong to him before it belonged to you.” 

“Can he claim it then?” questioned Bert. 

“Yes, I think so, if he dares to carry it into 
court; but of course he ’s got to prove that it did 
belong to him, and with a common-looking little 
cur like that, it ’s no easy matter to prove own- 
ership. I doubt, however, if the fellow will dare 
to go to law about it ; most likely he ’ll feel it 
safer for him to keep out of the courts, and in 
that case he’ll find out where you live, and get 
somebody to steal the dog again for him.” 

So it was not with feelings of unmixed joy 
that the boys carried home their twice-recovered 
pet, and from that time on for many months, the 
dog was carefully watched and guarded by both 


Dick’s Confession. 


201 


families. But whether it was that the manager 
of the dog-show had never really owned Tag, 
or whether he dared not have his antecedents 
investigated, certain it is that he put forth no 
further claim, and Tag was left in peace. 

But from the time of this second recovery of 
the dog, Bert declared that he belonged as much 
to Dick as to himself, and as Tag made no ob- 
jection, the intelligent little creature was hence- 
forth considered a partnership concern. 

But after the interest and excitement of this 
affair were over, Dick subsided into even deeper 
gloom than before; he even ceased to go in to 
Bert’s, until Bert, wounded by his curt refusals, 
ceased at last to ask him. 

Still the mother was unable to come home ; 
for there was so much fever in the city that 
nurses were hard to get, and she had gone to a 
second little patient after the first recovered, and 
her children could only hear from her through 
Dick, who had resumed his sidewalk interviews 
with her; but these interviews were so brief and 
hurried that she had not discovered that any- 
thing was amiss with her boy. 

The summer had been a very hot one, and 
exceedingly trying to Mrs. Morris, who, through 
the long, close July days, seemed to grow steadily 
14 


202 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


weaker. Helen and Bert were most anxious to 
get her away from the city for at least a month, 
but thus far she had refused to go, feeling that 
they could not afford the extra expense. 

One evening in the early part of August, Dick 
brought home a great bunch of fresh water-lilies. 
“ Put three or four in a bowl and carry the rest 
in to Mrs. Morris. I got them for her,” he said, 
as he handed them to Janie. 

“Take them in yourself, Dick; she’ll care 
more for them if you do,” pleaded Janie, but 
Dick refused. 

It happened that water-lilies were special 
favorites with Mrs. Morris, and the gift pleased 
her greatly ; all the more because it was the first 
time that Dick had sent any flowers to her, 
though he had given so many to Bert; and Bert, 
seeing his mother’s pleasure in the gift, felt a 
little ashamed of the resentment he had been 
cherishing against Dick, and determined to 
make one more effort to break down the barrier 
that seemed to have arisen between them of 
late. So after supper he swung himself lightly 
over the fence. Dick was examining, in a listless 
fashion, some of his slips that were drooping a 
little. Bert talked over the flowers for a while, 
and then proposed a row on the river. 


Dick’s Confession. 


203 


“A fellow I know has offered me the use of 
his boat,” he said, “ and it ’s no fun going alone. 
I took Helen last night; but she does n’t want to 
leave mother alone this evening. Come on; it 
will be moonlight before we get back.” 

Dick had half a mind to refuse, but the idea 
of a row on a night like that was too alluring. 
“All right, I ’ll go,” he said. 

“And if I do n’t find out before we get back 
what is the matter with you, it will be because 
I can’t,” Bert said to himself as they went off 
together. But it was not until they had rowed 
several miles up the river, and were gliding 
silently down with the current in the soft glow 
of the full moon, that he said abruptly: 

“Dick, what ’s the matter with you? I wish 
you would tell me.” 

Dick tried to answer coldly that it was all a 
notion of Bert’s — that there was nothing the 
matter with him; but the words would not come. 
Something in the quiet beauty of the place and 
hour, something in the voice of this boy who had 
been so true and kind a friend to him, moved 
him to speak out as an hour before he would not 
have believed he would speak to any one. Yet 
it was bitterly hard for him to tell this boy — 
whose good opinion he so much desired — how 


204 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


lie had yielded to a temptation that now seemed 
to him no temptation at all. He wondered him- 
self how he could have been so weak as not to 
resist the evil impulse to which he had yielded. 
These thoughts passed through his mind like a 
flash. He was silent a moment, then he said, 
slowly: 

“ You won’t want to have anything to do with 
me if I tell you.” 

“I don’t give up my friends so easily as all 
that,” replied Bert; “and, Dick, we all do things 
sometimes that it’s pretty hard to own up to.” 

“But you never would do a thing like this,” 
cried Dick; and then, with flushed face and down- 
cast eyes, he poured out his story, feeling a 
glad sense of relief in the telling, even though 
conscious how , low he must fall in his 
friend’s regard. Bert listened in silence. It 
was not until Dick had ceased speaking, though 
he still sat with his face turned away and his 
cheeks burning, that the other spoke. 

“I did worse than that' once, Dick,” he said 
slowly. “ I stole a quarter from my mother.” 

“You, Bert !” exclaimed Dick, a glad tone 
thrilling through the amazement in his voice as 
the thought flashed through his mind, “There ’s 
hope for me if Bert ever did a thing like that.” 


Dick’s Confession. 


205 


“Yes,” said Bert; “’twas when I was a little 
fellow, and I wanted something very much, and 
mother would n’t give me the money. I got 
what I wanted; but you’d better believe I didn’t 
take much pleasure in it.” 

“And did you tell her?” Dick questioned. 

“Yes — not for a long time, though,” said 
Bert. 

“Well, what do you think I ought to do, 
Bert?” 

“What do you think yourself, Dick?” 

Dick sighed heavily. “I s’pose there ’s 
nothing for it but to tell Mr. Small ; but the five 
dollars do n’t really belong to him either, you 
know, Bert.” 

“ No, but you ’ve nothing to do with that. 
That ’s his business,” said Bert, promptly. 

“If I ’d only done it at first,” groaned Dick. 
“It’s ten times as hard after I’ve kept it so 
long.” 

“Yes, I know, Dick,” said Bert, his voice full 
of sympathy. 

Dick went on: “And the worst of it is, the 
feeling I have about doing it. Why, Bert, I just 
loathe myself when I think of it, and wonder 
how I could have done such a thing, when I ’ve 
meant to do the square thing always. Now I 


206 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


feel as if — as if I could n’t trust myself,” he 
added hurriedly. 

“ I ’m sure I can’t trust myself J” said Bert, 
earnestly. “I would n’t dare to; but, Dick, you 
can trust the same One that I do to keep you 
from yielding to any sudden temptation.” He 
held out his hand as he spoke, and Dick wrung 
it hard, with a glad feeling that Bert was more 
truly his friend than ever. 

But how the boy did dread to go to Mr. 
Small the next morning and return that five dol- 
lars ! His face was very white as he went to the 
office, and laying the money on the desk, told 
his story. Mr. Small heard it in silence, and 
as Dick ceased speaking, said only, “Is that all? 
You may go about your work then,” and Dick 
went with a heart lighter than it had been for 
weeks, even though he was not at all sure that 
Mr. Small meant to keep him in his employ. 
When next pay-day came, he went to the office 
dreading a dismissal, but Mr. Small paid him as 
usual, nor did he ever refer to the matter of the 
gold piece again, and Dick never knew whether 
or not the money was returned to Mr. Datimer. 
He did know, however, with a gladness that 
never failed to thrill his heart, that it no longer 
figured in his little bank account. 


CHAPTER XYII1. 


JOHNNY’S DEPARTURE. 

NE August morning Janie went down-stairs 



earlier than usual. The night had been 
close and sultry, and in her small room right 
under the flat tin roof, it had been so hot and 
breathless that she had slept but little, and now 
felt weary and unrefreshed. She sat down on 
the back doorstep, and leaned her head against 
the side of the house. There had been no rain 
for weeks; and in spite of the morning and even- 
ing wetting that Dick or the children gave them, 
many of the flowers looked parched and wilted. 

“O dear!” sighed Janie, “it seems to me I 
never knew such a hot summer. I am so tired 
of it — and so tired of getting up mornings and 
making the fire, and getting the breakfast. It ’s 
the same thing over and over ; breakfast to get 
three hundred and sixty-five times in a year, and 
dinner and supper just as many times.” In an 
idle fashion she mentally ran over the figures 
“ One thousand and ninety-five meals in a 
year — I think that ’s enough to make any one 
tired even to think of, much less to get ready.” 


208 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


She glanced at the clock. 

“Five minutes of six, and Dick must be at 
the shop by half-past seven. I wonder why he 
is n’t down ? He ’s usually fussing over his 
flowers by this time. Well, I must start the fire 
or breakfast will be late,” and rising, she went 
wearily about her work. 

Dick came down presently, and he too looked 
tired, but he was no longer gruff and unap- 
proachable. Since his talk with Bert, and with 
Mr. Small, he had been so much brighter, and 
so much more kind and thoughtful, that Janie 
had ceased to worry about him. 

“Another hot day!” she sighed as he ap- 
peared, and as he answered cheerfully, “ O well, 
it can’t last many weeks longer,” Janie re- 
sponded in hopeless tones, “ Six weeks, as likely 
as not. It never gets really cool here until well 
into September.” 

“Got the blues, Janie?” said Dick, smiling 
into her gloomy face in kindly fashion. “Well, 
I do n’t wonder, though it seems queer to see 
you blue.” 

Janie smiled back then, and the shadows dis- 
appeared from her face, banished by the few 
words of sympathy. 

“ I do n’t have time to be blue very often,” 


Johnny’s Dkparturk. 


209 


she said, “I have too much to do;” and as the 
children came straggling down-stairs, she moved 
briskly about the kitchen, and for the next half 
hour gave no thought to anything but the duties 
of the moment. But a shadow fell again upon 
her face as she saw Johnny push away his plate 
without having eaten a mouthful, and throw 
himself wearily down on the lounge. 

“ He grows 'thinner and weaker every day,” 
she said to Dick. “If he doesn’t get better 
soon we must let mother know. O, how long it 
does seem since she went away.” 

Dick, too, looked anxiously at Johnny, noting 
the pale cheeks and hollow eyes, and tried to 
think of some way to help the little fellow. “ I 
do n’t s’pose the doctor could do him any good,” 
he said, in a low tone to his sister. 

“ No, I do n’t think so,” Janie answered. “ It ’s 
the hot weather, I suppose ; and I think lately, 
since he ’s been so weak, he has been fretting 
for mother.” 

Dick went off, and Marianna and Tommy, 
after giving the garden-bed a soaking, carried 
some chairs out into the shadiest corner of the 
yard, where, with the baby, they spent the 
greater part of the morning blowing soap- 
bubbles. 


210 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Janie, putting the sleeping-rooms in order a 
little later, heard Helen’s voice calling from the 
foot of the stairs : “Can I come up?” and in re- 
sponse to Janie’s prompt “Of course,” she ran 
lightly up, her eyes shining, as she threw her 
arms about Janie, crying out: 

“ I ’ve come to tell you what a lovely thing 
has happened.” 

Janie could not help smiling in sympathy as 
she looked into her friend’s happy face. “ Do 
tell me,” she said. 

Helen pulled a couple of chairs to the coolest 
window as she answered, “Sit down, it ’s a long 
story, and you might as well rest while you 
listen,” then, as Janie dropped down beside her, 
she went on : 

“You know how anxious Bert and I have 
been to get mother away from this hot city, and 
she would n’t hear a word about it because of 
the expense. Well, this morning a letter came 
to her, and I just cried when she read it to us. 
I believe I never cried before from pure and 
simple delight. It was a letter from an old 
friend to whom father lent two hundred dollars 
more than ten years ago. The man who bor- 
rowed was unfortunate in his business and could 
not repay the money, and father gave it up as a 


Johnny’s Departure. 


2 1 1 


bad debt years before he died. But, Janie, that 
man has had some money left to him, and he 
has repaid the sum he borrowed with interest 
for all these years — over three hundred dollars 
it is — and Bert and I just made mother promise 
that she would go to the seashore for a month.” 

Janie’s face reflected the brightness of her 
friend’s as she said, heartily : 

“ Helen, I believe I am almost as glad as you 
are. It has made me feel so badly to see your 
mother so weak and feeble. But how I shall 
miss you all! How soon will you go?” 

“Just as soon as we can get away. I must 
go with mother, of course ; but Bert won’t go. 
He wrote this morning to a place where we used 
to go every summer when papa was living, and 
he told them not to write, but to telegraph if 
they could take us, so we shall know before 
night. But, Janie, you haven’t heard all yet. 
As soon as mamma said she would go, she began 
to plan about it, and she wants Johnny to go 
with us. She says he needs the change as much 
as she does.” 

% 

“Johnny? O no, he couldn’t,” exclaimed 
Janie, quickly. 

“Wait a minute. Don’t say ‘no’ till you 
have heard all our plan,” said Helen, laying her 


212 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


hand oil Janie’s. “ You see, Bert can’t go with 
ns because he has no vacation this summer, and 
mamma wants to change him off for Johnny, 
do n’t you see. Have him take his meals here 
with you — he can sleep at home, of course. He 
would like it so much better than going to a 
restaurant or boarding-house, and it would be so 
convenient for him, and then mamma would not 
worry about him; and only think how good it 
would be for Johnny to spend a whole month 
by the ocean !” 

Janie drew a long breath. A whole month 
by the ocean ! Why, the very thought of it was 
restful to her, and what might not the reality do 
for her sickly little brother? 

“It was lovely of your mother to think of 
such a thing, Helen,” she said, gratefully. “I 
do n’t know how to thank her for it ; but truly, 
I don’t see how Johnny can go. You know he 
would need more clothes away from home. He 
could n’t get along with such old things as he 
wears here.” 

“Mamma thought of that, too,” said Helen. 
“She knows what it is to keep a boy present- 
able. Bert used to wear out clothes so fast!” 

Janie smiled. “He couldn’t have equaled 
Tommy,” she said. “ Tommy wore out seven- 


Johnny’s Departure. 


213 


teen pairs of trousers the first year after he left 
off dresses. Of course, they were not all new 
ones. Some were made out of old ones of Dick’s, 
and some were thin summer ones — but there 
were seventeen pairs of them.” 

Helen laughed as she went 011 eagerly. 
“Speaking of making trousers out of old ones — 
mamma said that if you would n’t mind, there 
are two pairs that Bert has outgrown that would 
make over nicely for Johnny ; and as to shirt- 
waists — why, you can get the cambric for one 
for twenty-five or thirty cents, and I could make 
two or three for him just as well as not while we 
are away. I ’d rather do that than fancy work, 
and mamma could show me anything I do n’t 
know about them ; and as to the trousers, there ’s 
Mrs. Fales, one of the old ladies to whom I 
carry flowers sometimes — she would be only too 
thankful to make them over for Johnny for any 
price that we could pay her. Don’t refuse, 
Janie,” Helen added, pleadingly; “it has just 
made my heart ache to look at Johnny lately ; 
and you inus n’t feel one bit uncomfortable 
about the expense, for mamma feels, you know, 
that this was a special gift sent just now for her 
special need, and she could n’t really enjoy it if 
she did n’t share it with somebody else.” 


214 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“Do you believe, Helen, that people are pro- 
vided for and looked out for that way?” said 
Janie, earnestly. 

“ I can’t help believing it, it has been so with 
us so many times — just as timely provisions as 
this,” said Helen, simply. 

“It must be a comfort to feel that way,” said 
Janie, wistfully ; and Helen quickly responded: 

“It ’s the greatest comfort in the world, Janie, 
and” — she whispered gently — “it’s a comfort 
that you can have if you will, dear.” 

Janie shook her head, then spoke in a dif- 
ferent tone. 

“ Tell your mother, Helen, that I can’t find 
words to thank her. I can’t say yes, though, 
until I have talked it over with Dick and written 
mother about it. I ’ll write to her this morning, 
and I ’m sure that Dick will carry the note to 
her after supper.” 

“Of course, you will want to consult them ; 
but, Janie, I ’m sure they will both say Johnny 
must go, so now give me a pair of his trousers 
and a shirt-waist, for I ’m going ahead just as if 
it was all settled. There ’s a cup of custard for 
him on the kitchen table and down-stairs she 
ran, stopping a moment to give Johnny a kiss 
and a cheery word as she went. 


Johnny’s Departure. 215 

When Dick came home to supper, Janie told 
him of Mrs. Morris’s kind proposal, and he said 
at once that Johnny must go unless his mother 
said “ no;” “ and I ’m sure she won’t,” he added. 

Nor did she. After supper, Dick carried 
Janie’s note to the house where his mother now 
was. Slipping it under the door, he rang the 
bell, and then, as usual, retreated to the edge of 
the sidewalk. In a few minutes his mother ap- 
peared at the open window with the note in her 
hand, and a mingled expression of anxiety and 
satisfaction on her face. 

“The poor little fellow !” she said, after 
greeting Dick. “ Why have n’t you told me how 
bad he was, Dick ? Well, I suppose I should 
have fretted if I ’d known ; but I could n’t ask 
anything better for him than a month at the 
seashore. I ’m sure it will be the best thing in 
the world for him ; . and how good Mrs. Morris 
was to plan it!” She wiped her eyes as she 
went on : “I can’t feel that it would be right to 
refuse, though I do hate to be under any obliga- 
tion; but if Johnny’s so bad as Janie tells me 
here in her letter, I must n’t let any such feeling 
stand in the way. Are all the rest well, Dick? 
You ’re not keeping anything else from me ?” 
Then, as Dick assured her that all the rest were 




2l6 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


well, she went on: “Both the children here are 
getting better fast now. I hope if they have 
no setback, that I can get away in a week or ten 
days. Tell them all so at home, and tell them that 
mother is hungry for a sight of their dear faces. 
I do hate to have Johnny go away without my 
seeing him, but I suppose it must be.” 

So it was settled, and Johnny was so happy 
when Janie told him that he scarcely slept that 
night. The telegram came, saying that the three 
could be accommodated, and so rapidly were the 
preparations pushed that on the next day but one 
the little party was off. Bert got one day’s leave 
of absence, and went with them, feeling that the 
care of two sick people on the journey would be 
too much for Helen. 

Janie had feared that when it came to the 
point of actually starting off, her shy, quiet little 
brother’s courage might fail ; but it did not. 
Like all the Brown children, he was very fond 
of Helen, and her mother’s gentle kindliness had 
long since won the little fellow’s heart. So he had 
brightened up wonderfully, and was full of eager 
interest in this his first flight from the home 
nest ; and when he took his seat in the carriage 
that was to take them to the depot, Janie could 
not help smiling in spite of the tears in her eyes, 


Johnny’s Depart ur#. 


217 


as Johnny leaned out of the window and waved 
his hand to Marianna, Tommy, and the baby, as 
he called out “ Good-bye, children,” and at this 
Marianna’s voice took on its old, scornful ring — 
not nearly so common now as of old — as she re- 
marked, with a toss of her head: 

“ Children , indeed ! Anybody ’d think he 
was our grandfather;” and she flounced into 
the house, with the two little boys at her heels. 
But all the same, the house seemed very lonely 
to them all that night, and it was many days be- 
fore they ceased to miss the patient face and 
quiet figure that they had been so used to seeing 
on the old lounge. 

In her secret heart Janie had greatly dreaded 
to have Bert take his place at her table, so un- 
like what she knew he was accustomed to ; but 
since it could not be helped, she did the best 
she could, and tried not to worry over what she 
was unable to do, and if Bert noticed the dif- 
ference he was very careful not to show it. Cer- 
tainly he brought with him his nicest table man- 
ners, and the meals that month were a continual 
object-lesson to Janie and Dick, and even to 
Marianna. But Janie felt a heavy load of re- 
sponsibility lifted from her shoulders when, two 
weeks later, her mother did really come home. 
15 


2lS 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


What a welcome slie received from the children, 
and how happy she was to be with them once 
more ! Now Janie worried no more lest Bert’s 
meals should not be satisfactory, for a nicer cook 
than Mrs. Brown it would be hard to find. 

Helen wrote twice a week to Bert, usually 
inclosing a note to Janie. Her letters were full 
of good tidings of both the invalids, and as for 
herself, she declared that she was growing so 
stout and so brown that they would not know 
her when she returned. 

Ivife seemed altogether brighter and happier 
to Janie now, with mother again at the helm of 
the household ship. The weather, too, had 
changed, three days of soft, quiet showers being 
followed by the long-looked-for cool wave. The 
garden was fresh and flourishing again, and it 
seemed as if every plant was bursting into 
bloom. Now Janie had a chance to take up a 
little of Helen’s work, and she went twice a 
week to several of the hospitals, Marianna and 
Tommy always going with her; for she had the 
flowers in both yards to dispose of. Tommy 
never failed to carry along a bunch of his own 
special flowers, and the larger part of these were 
always given to the poor little lad who had so 
touched Tommy’s heart on his first visit to the 


Johnny’s Departure;. 


219 


children’s hospital. The child lingered on, gain- 
ing a little sometimes, but still too weak even 
to sit up. He watched for Tommy’s visits, and 
always welcomed him with that heart-breaking, 
shadowy smile ; but he did not talk much. 
Generally, Tommy carried him some other offer- 
ing besides his flowers. Once it was a penny 
that he had found in the street. Once it was 
an alley, one of his choicest treasures ; and an- 
other time it was part of a stick of candy ; but 
always Tommy’s rough but tender heart was 
touched afresh at the sight of the pitiful little 
fellow. He never seemed to get used to the 
sight of his hollow eyes and claw-like fingers. 

Marianna did n’t like to visit this little fellow. 
He made her uncomfortable, and she didn’t like 
to be uncomfortable, so she bestowed her atten- 
tions and her flowers on the girls in the other 
wards, and soon became a general favorite among 
them. Janie often looked wonderingly at her, 
as she saw the noisy, romping Marianna go qui- 
etly from one bed to another, or gather about 
her a group of the children who were able to be 
out of bed, and amuse them in bright, ingenious 
ways all her own. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


JOHNNY IN TROUBLE. 


S for Johnny, when he stood on the beach, 



** and saw the great billows break with a 
thundering boom, and roll their white foatn far 
up the sands, and when he looked away off 
on the boundless waste of waters, he felt as if 
he had been transported to a new world. The 
salt breath of the ocean was like an elixir to 
him. It sent a glad thrill of life and strength 
through his veins. For days he did nothing but 
lie on the sands, or in the hammock on the 
porch, and look and listen to this grand, new 
wonder, which he had never even imagined 
before. 

After a while, as he grew stronger, he liked to 
wander on the shore and watch the children as 
they played on the beach — the little ones making 
pies and cakes of the damp sand ; the older ones 
digging canals and building mounds and forts, 
and sometimes getting an unexpected shower- 
bath when an extra big wave came rolling up 
far beyond tlie others. 


220 


Johnny in Trouble. 


221 


Johnny never offered to play with the stranger 
children, but he would watch them for hours, 
and then go in to dinner or supper with a rose- 
pink tinge in his thin cheeks, and eat in a 
fashion that would have made Janie open her 
eyes in wonder. 

Mrs. Morris, too, gained steadily after the first 
week ; so that Helen, freed from anxiety, could 
take, as she declared, “solid chunks of com- 
fort,” as she noted the daily gains made by 
both her charges. Every morning after break- 
fast she would establish her mother in a steamer- 
chair on the wide piazza, putting plenty of pil- 
lows at her back, and an Afghan ready to her 
hand should it be needed. There Mrs. Morris 
would lie all the morning; sometimes looking 
off over the ocean or watching the throng of 
children on the beach, sometimes reading a 
little, and sometimes taking a brief nap, from 
which she would awake rested and refreshed. 
She would not have Helen stay with her in the 
morning, but sent her off for long walks, and 
sometimes for a row on the lake. 

Always in these rambles, Johnny was Helen’s 
most devoted attendant. If he became tired, the 
two would drop down on the sand, or sit on the 
long fishing-pier, or in the pavilion overlooking 


222 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


the water, till he was rested and ready to go on 
again. 

Usually Johnny was very silent, and Helen 
would often wonder what he was thinking of as 
his big, solemn eyes rested so long on her face, 
or watched all that was going on about him. 

One day as they sat on the beach in the 
shadow of the pavilion, Johnny idly dipping his 
hands in the clean, warm sand, and letting it sift 
slowly through his fingers, Helen asked sud- 
denly : 

“ What are you thinking of, Johnny?” 

Johnny’s blue eyes were lifted to hers for a 
moment, then dropped to the little silver cross on 
her dress. 

“That,” he said, touching it lightly. “You 
said once that you wore it ’cause you ’re a 
King’s daughter, an’ you said me ’n’ Tommy 
was a King’s sons. I wish,” he looked up 
wistfully, “I wish ’t I knew what you meant.” 

Very gently, in few and simple words, Helen 
told him about the great King whose sons and 
daughters we all are, and to whom our love 
and service are due. The child listened with 
deepest interest. 

“Is that what makes you and Bert so — so 
different?” he asked. 


Johnny in Trouble. 


223 


“ Different — how do you mean ?” said Helen. 

“ Why,” said Johnny, slowly, “ you he always 
doin’ things for other people, like carryin’ 
flowers to the sick children, an’ bringin’ me 
here, an’ you do n’t get cross an’ scold, as we 
do in our house.” 

“O Johhny, I do get cross lots of times,” 
said Helen, quickly, “ and I do n’t do half as 
much for other people as I might and ought to 
do; but I do try to do what I know will please 
Him.” 

“But little boys, like me, can’t do much any- 
way,” said Johnny, lifting his blue eyes to the 
girl’s face once more. 

“O yes, Johnny, little boys like you can do 
things often, that big girls like me could n’t do 
at all. You just think about it, and keep your 
eyes open, and you ’ll find something to do for 
the King every single day.” 

Johnny shook his head. “ I do n’t see what,” 
he said. The next moment he broke into such 
a ripple of merry laughter as Helen had never 
heard him before, as a big wave came sweeping 
up, and they had to scramble away in wild haste 
to escape a wetting. 

It was the very next morning that Helen had 
a chance to see another side of Johnny’s char- 


224 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


acter. Having some letters to write before she 
could go for her morning walk, she told the boy 
to wait for her on the long fishing-pier. So 
there Johnny waited, watching meanwhile two 
little girls who had built a play-house for them- 
selves by banking up the damp sand to form 
three walls, with the side of the pier for the 
back. Here they were having a very happy 
time with their dolls, and paying no attention to 
anybody else. Among those who were fishing 
from the end of the long pier were two boys 
perhaps a couple of years older than Johnny, and 
much larger and stronger. They did not seem 
to have much success with their fishing, for 
after a little they pulled in their lines and saun- 
tered along the pier. As they approached the 
end where Johnny sat, they discovered the happy 
little girls on the sand below. 

“ Say, Fred, let ’s hook their rag-babies when 
they ain’t looking and fling ’em into the water. 
It ’ll be great fun to hear their screeches when 
they see their precious dollies drowning before 
their eyes,” said the bigger of the two boys. 

“All right,” chuckled the other; “ now ’s our 
chance while they ’re watching that big wave 
and they began to lower their hooks, trying to 
entangle them in the dolls’ clothing. 


Johnny in Trouble. 


225 


Johnny’s face flushed indignantly, and leaning 
over he called : 

“ Cook out for your dolls, little girls.” 

The children turned and snatched up their 
dolls — only just in time, for one was already 
being lifted on ’Gene’s hook. 

“You little sneak,” cried ’Gene, angrily, “I ’ll 
teach you to spoil our sport,” and he aimed a 
furious blow at Johnny; but Johnny dodging it, 
sprang off the pier on to the sandy beach below, 
while the little girls, with their dolls, ran off as 
fast as they could go. 

Both boys sprang down after Johnny, who, 
backing against the pier, stood waiting for what 
was to follow. Always sickly and delicate, Johnny 
had never mingled much with other boys, and 
had never in his life taken part in one of the 
rough-and-tumble fights in which his small 
brother Tommy was already so proficient. 

“Come, now!” called out ’Gene, taking what 
he considered a scientific attitude, “ we ’re goin’ 
to give you a lickin’, but if you stand up like a 
man and fight, we ’ll only tackle you one at a 
time. Me first, though, Fred,” he added, to the 
other. 

“ I ain’t a-goin’ to fight,” said Johnny. 

“All right. Then you ’re goin’ to take two 


226 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


of the biggest lickin’s ever you had,” and with 
that, one boy gave Johnny a stinging blow on 
the cheek, while the other tripped him up, and, 
as he fell, both threw themselves upon him, 
pounding and pommeling him without mercy. 
Helen was coming up just as the three boys 
sprang from the pier, and now with a frightened 
face ran forward to Johnny’s assistance ; but a 
tall gentleman was there before her, and had 
seized the two boys by the collar and jerked them 
off their victim before Helen fairly realized that 
he was there. 

“ You ’re a pretty pair, are n’t you?” he said 
sternly, emphasizing his remarks with a shake 
that made the boys’ teeth chatter. “Two great 
stout fellows like you pitching into a little chap 
like that ! Why do n’t you take somebody of 
your own size, if you must fight ? Bah ! You ’re 
a pair of brutal cowards, that ’s what you are ; 
and if I ever catch you interfering with my 
little girls again, I promise you that I ’ll give 
you both such a flogging as you never had yet, 
more ’s the pity,” and with a final shake he let 
them go, and they did go speedily, not even 
waiting to pick up their fishing lines. 

Helen, meantime, had helped Johnny to his 
feet, and wiped the blood from his face, and now 


Johnny in Trouble. 227 

turned to thank the gentleman for his timely 
assistance. 

“I hope the little fellow isn’t much hurt,” 
he said. “Does n’t look as if he were up to such 
rough work. My little girls told me all about 
it,” he added, with a smile for Johnny, “you got 
into trouble on their account.” 

“That was n’t anything,” said Johnny, shyly; 
but the gentleman shook hands with him, and 
said, as he lifted his hat to Helen, “I shall not 
forget you, my little man,” and asking where 
they were stopping, he turned away, while Helen 
led her small knight home, where her mother 
petted him until Helen laughingly declared her- 
self jealous. 

A few days later, a handsome carriage drawn 
by two big gray horses stopped at the door of 
the house where the Morrises were staying. 
Johnny, who was just going down to the beach, 
smiled in his shy way at the two little girls on 
the front seat, and started on, but they called 
him back. 

“We ’ve come for you,” they called in chorus ; 
and, as Johnny stood looking at them in a be- 
wildered fashion, their father, who was driving, 
added, “We want to take you and your sister 
for^a drive.” 


228 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“My sister? She isn’t — ” began Johnny; 
then he cried, eagerly, “O, you mean Helen ; I ’ll 
tell her,” and was darting into the house when 
the gentleman called him back and gave him a 
card. “Take that to the young lady,” he said. 

The name on the card was Mr. Arthur Van 
Ness. Mrs. Morris read it with a perplexed ex- 
pression, as she said, “ I can not let you go, 
Helen, without knowing who this Mr. Van Ness 
is. Ask Mrs. Clark if she knows him.” 

Mrs. Clark was the landlady. She came 
back with Helen in a moment. 

“Mr. Van Ness!” she said. “Why, he owns 
the Clarendon, one of our finest hotels, and there 
is n’t a nicer gentleman in the place. I ’ve met 
him, Mrs. Morris, and I ’ll go out and introduce 
him to Miss Helen.” 

“Then I may go, mamma?” questioned 
Helen. “ It ’s only for Johnny’s sake, you know, 
that he asked me.” 

“Yes, I suppose so,” her mother answered 
still a little doubtfully ; but she was satisfied 
when Mrs. Clark returned to say that Mrs. Van 
Ness was on the back seat, “and she’s sure to 
make Miss Helen have a good time.” 

That was a never-to-be-forgotten ride to 
Johnny. In the first place, he had never before 


Johnny in Troubix. 229 

ridden in a soft, easy carriage like that. It was 
so wide that there was plenty of room for three 
on a seat, and Mr. Van Ness took him on the 
front seat, putting one of the little girls back 
with her mother and Helen; and the long drive, 
partly 011 the hard beach, with the waves 
washing up almost to the horses’ feet, and partly 
through lovely country roads along the river 
bank and past the lake where Helen and Johnny 
went rowing sometimes, was beautiful all the 
way. The big, strong horses swung them along 
at such a gloriously swift pace! And all the 
way the little girls kept up their lively chatter, 
and Johnny looking at them with happy eyes, 
left his eyes to talk for him, for his tongue was 
mostly silent. When towards sunset, the gray 
horses stopped once more at their door, Helen 
felt that she had found a new friend in the 
gentle little lady who had made the drive so 
pleasant for her, while Johnny was sure that he 
had found more than one. 

Many pleasant hours did he spend after that 
day, playing on the beach with Florence and 
Gracie Van Ness, and that was not the last drive 
that he had behind the big gray horses, either. 

But there was another sequel to that first 
one-sided fight of his, and this was the way of it. 


230 Next-Door Neighbors. 

The two boys, Fred and ’Gene, had vowed 
vengeance against Johnny, not only for inter- 
fering with what they called their “ sport,” but 
because they blamed him for the scathing words 
that Mr. Van Ness had poured out upon them. 
So they watched and waited for their oppor- 
tunity. It was not until two weeks later that it 
came; for Johnny was always with Helen when 
he was not with the Van Ness children, and 
since that day, which they remembered so well, 
a servant was always within call of the children. 

But one evening, just at dusk, one of the lady 
boarders asked Johnny to carry to the post-office 
a letter which she was anxious to get into the 
last mail, and as he had barely time to reach 
the post-office, he did not stop to tell Helen 
where he was going, but went off on the run. 
Having dropped the letter in the receiving-box, 
he was going back to the house, which stood on 
one of the newer streets — not yet closely built. 
There were several vacant lots to pass, and it 
was growing quite dusky as he reached these, 
so that he did not recognize the boy who came 
running towards him, crying out : “ Come over 
here with me, will you ? There ’s a fellow over 
here a little way that ’s broke his leg, ’n’ I ’ve 
got to get somebody to carry him home. I ’ll 


Johnny in Troubi,#. 231 

show you where he is, and then if you ’ll stay 
with him till I can run for help, I ’ll be aw- 
fully obliged.” 

Without waiting for Johnny’s answer, the boy 
began to run across the lots and Johnny fol- 
lowed, thinking that the boy with the broken 
leg was close at hand. But on and on went the 
boy before him, pretending not to hear when 
Johnny called out to know how much farther 
they had to go. They were far beyond the 
houses — out on a sandy flat near the ocean — 
when the boy slackened his pace and pointed 
to a dark figure on the ground ahead of them. 

“There he is,” he said. “Hark, and you’ll 
hear him groan;” and Johnny, listening, heard 
a moaning cry that made him shiver. 

“ Hurry up !” said the boy, and Johnny quick- 
ened his pace. 

But as, following his guide he drew near, the 
figure 011 the sand sprang lightly to his feet, and 
at the same time the other pinioned Johnny’s 
arms and began to drag him towards a big hole, 
dug in the sand. In spite of his struggles they 
forced him into the hole, and while one held 
him there, the other began to shovel in the sand 
around him. 

“O don’t — don’t bury me !” Johnny pleaded; 


232 Next-Door Neighbors. 

but without a word the boys kept on until the 
sand was up to the poor little lad’s neck. Only 
his head was uncovered, and they stamped on 
the sand and pounded it down, so that he could 
not, with his utmost efforts, free even his hands. 

Johnny’s face was deathly pale, and his eyes 
were wild with fear, as he pleaded with the boys 
not to leave him there. “ I shall die!” he cried, 
in despair, as with taunts and mocking words 
they turned away. 

“O no, you won’t. We ’ll come and dig you 
up in the morning,” they called back, as they 
vanished in the darkness. 

A cold despair settled down on poor Johnny 
when his strained eyes could no longer see his 
enemies, and he realized that they really were 
leaving him there. 

“I shall die! I shall die!” he moaned. “O 
mother! mother!” and, mercifully, he lost con- 
sciousness, and no more cries or moans reached 
the ears of the two boys ; for they had only 
gone just beyond Johnny’s sight. They had no 
intention of leaving him there all night. They 
would not have dared do that; but they meant 
to “scare him well and have the fun of hearing 
him beg.” When the cries ceased and utter 
stillness succeeded, the boys began to feel uneasy. 


Johnny in Trouble. 


233 


“You don’t suppose — anything’s happened 
to him — do you ?” said Fred, uneasily. 

“O no — he thinks we’re somewhere ’round, 
and he’s trying to frighten us so we’ll go 
back,” said ’Gene. 

Then they listened again. 

“ Come, ’Gene — I ’m going back. If anything 
should happen to him, folks might not believe 
that we meant it only for a joke,” he said, 
walking rapidly on. 

“As if anything could happen just in these 
few minutes!” said ’Gene ; but he followed the 
other, and presently both broke into a run. 

“Say, baby, how do you like it, so far?” 
’Gene called, as they drew near their victim. 
But no sound broke the silence — the terrible 
silence it began to seem to the boys. 

“He’s just shamming,” said ’Gene; but his 
voice trembled, and as he drew a match-box 
from his pocket his fingers trembled, too, so 
that he could hardly strike a match. 

When, after what seemed to both boys an 
eternity, a match blazed Up and they held it close 
to Johnny’s face, and saw the closed eyes and 
blue lips, a cry broke from Fred, and ’Gene’s face 
grew white, while both began to dig out the 

sand. They did not wait to find their- shovel, 
16 


234 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


but dug with their hands, while the perspiration 
ran down their faces, and their hearts beat like 
trip-hammers. Not one word did either utter, 
until they had lifted the limp body out and laid 
it on the ground. Then ’Gene said, unsteadily: 
“ He is n’t dead ; I can feel his heart beating. 
But we ’ve got to carry him home — and fast as 
we can go, too.” 

It seemed to them as if they crawled, though 
they went as rapidly as they could with so heavy 
a burden. When they had to stop for a mo- 
ment’s rest, ’Gene would lay his hand upon 
Johnny’s heart to reassure himself. 

When at last they reached the house, they 
found it all in commotion, for every one was 
searching for the missing boy. Helen ran down 
the steps with a low cry as she saw the burden 
that they carried, but it was Mr. Van Ness who 
took the motionless form from the boys and 
carried it up-stairs. 

“ What doctor shall we go for?” Fred asked ; 
and never had he run faster than he did that 
night as he went to summon that doctor. 

It was an anxious night for Mrs. Morris and 
Helen as they watched over Johnny ; but after 
he recovered consciousness the doctor gave him 
an opiate, and he slept, not only through the 


Johnny in Trouble. 


235 


night, but far into the next day, and when he did 
awake, though weak and exhausted from the 
nervous strain, he was far better than they had 
dared to hope; and when, on the following day, 
he was able to go down to the big piazza, he 
held quite a reception there. There were a good 
many boarders in the house, and Johnny, so 
much more quiet and gentle than most boys, 
had made more friends than he knew among 
them ; and all of them had a kind word for him 
now, while Florence and Gracie Van Ness wanted 
to lavish all sorts of gifts upon him to express 
their delight at having him again for a play- 
mate, even though his part, for several days, was 
merely to look on at their play. 

Mr. Van Ness had questioned ’Gene and 
Fred, but they stuck to the story they had 
agreed upon, and declared that they had found 
Johnny lying unconscious on the sand. Mr. 
Van Ness did not consider this a probable story. 
He waited a few days till the doctor considered 
it safe for the child to be questioned, and then 
he asked Johnny to tell him all about it. But, 
to his surprise, Johnny answered quietly : 

“ Please do n’t ask me, Mr. Van Ness. I can’t 
tell you anything about it.” 

“ Do you mean that you do n’t know how it 


236 Next-Door Neighbors. 

happened, or that you have promised not 
to tell ?” 

“ No, I have n’t promised ; nobody asked me 
to, ,r stammered Johnny, looking so distressed 
that Mr. Van Ness dared not question him 
further then. But he interviewed the boys 
again. It was strange, when they considered 
the little fellow a coward, that they dared trust 
to his keeping silence in regard to what they 
had done; but they had taken the risk of that 
when they agreed on the story that they should 
tell, and now, when Mr. Van Ness came to them 
a second time evidently no wiser than before, 
they were satisfied that Johnny had not betrayed 
them. 

No words could express the relief they felt 
when they found that Johnny had not been 
permanently injured by their cruel deed. They 
had had enough of revenge, and during the re- 
mainder of Johnny’s stay they kept out of his 
sight as much as possible. Fred was not at 
heart a bad boy, though under ’Gene’s leader- 
ship he had done many things that he did not 
like to think of now ; and after this affair he 
lost his relish for ’Gene's companionship, and 
went with other boys. Sometimes he thought 
he would go to Mr. Van Ness and tell him all 


Johnny in Trouble. 


237 


about wliat had been done to Johnny; but the 
remembrance of ’Gene’s threats and his own 
vows of secrecy withheld him, and Mr. Van 
Ness never knew the truth. When Helen 
questioned the child one day, he answered only 
by leaning forward and touching very gently 
her little silver cross, with a look in his eyes 
that made her feel that she could ask no more. 
Only to his mother, after he got home, did 
Johnny tell the whole story ; and she, though 
sorely against her will, promised him that no 
one should learn the truth from her. 


CHAPTER XX 


AT THE ZOO. 

I F, in spite of his two trying experiences, 
Johnny counted this the happiest month of his 
life, to Janie the last two weeks of that month 
were no less happy. 

It began for her with her mother’s home- 
coming. To Mrs. Brown, so long shut up in 
sick-rooms and away from her own dear ones, it 
was rest'enough and happiness enough to be at 
home once more. She was strong and well, and 
the work of the little household was no burden to 
her experienced hands, while the mending which 
dragged so wearily and endlessly when Janie 
had to do it all in odd minutes snatched from 
other work, was quickly and easily dispatched 
when she and her mother sat down to the task 
together after the house was in order. 

But rest from burdens too heavy for her 
young shoulders was only the beginning of the 
girl’s happy fortnight. It was to Bert that she 
owed the rest, and many times she smiled as she 
recalled her oft-expressed wish that no boys 
would come to live next door, after the departure 
238 


At the; Zoo. 


239 


of the Gradys. Bert and Mrs. Brown had taken 
kindly to each other from the beginning, and the 
very next evening after the mother’s home- 
coming, the two had a nice long talk while 
Janie was out on an errand and the children 
had gone to bed. 

Bert had been talking about his mother and 
her long illness, and about Helen, and at last he 
began to speak of Janie. 

“You see I miss Helen awfully, Mrs. Brown,” 
he said. “ I ’ve always been used to taking her 
about so much, especially in my summer vaca- 
tions. I ’d rather go with her than with any fellow 
I know, and I want to ask you if I can’t take 
Janie about in her place while Helen ’s away. 
Dick and I ’ve been going off now and then 
lately, since we stopped our evening work; but 
I ’m sure we ’d both enjoy it more with Janie 
along, and I ’ll take just as good care of her as 
I would of Helen. It will do her lots of good, 
too; for she does n’t get out at all when you are 
away, you know.” 

“ I know, the dear child,” said Mrs. Brown, 
in her kind, motherly way. “ It worries me 
often to think how she ’s tied down in her girl- 
hood days. But there! it’s no use worryin’ over 
what a body can’t help. She won’t be tied 


240 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


down until I’m called away again, and if you 
and Dick can take her out a little these long, 
hot evenings, I ’111 sure I sha’n’t object; and I 
know how she will enjoy it.” 

“I ’ll do my best to make her, Mrs. Brown,” 
Bert answered, earnestly. “ So it ’s settled, and 
we sha’n’t have to take all our trips after supper 
either, for my employer told me to-day, that as 
business is so slack just now, I can get off at 
three o’clock for the rest of the month.” 

So the bright days began for Janie. Bert 
was one of those boys who make the nicest 
possible escorts for their girl friends. He never 
forgot anything that would add to their comfort 
or enjoyment, while at the same time he did 
not overwhelm them with officious attentions. 

Janie, and Dick as well, learned in those two 
weeks more about the city in which they lived 
than they had ever known before. Sometimes 
the three went for a ride on the belt-line that 
circled the city ; sometimes for a long ramble 
through the woods; and again Bert would take 
them to see one or another old historic building, 
of which, perhaps, Janie and Dick had never 
heard, but which their companion knew all 
about. 

“ O dear!” Janie sighed one evening, when 


At the Zoo. 


241 


Bert had been telling them about several famous 
men who had lived in one of these old mansions. 
“ How do you learn so much about everything, 
Bert? It makes me feel so ignorant.” 

Bert colored, and looked a little disturbed. 

“Have I been talking like a conceited prig?” 
he said. 

“O no, no !” exclaimed Janie, quickly. “It ’s 
only that I don’t know anything. You see,” 
she added, “ I had to leave school when father 
died, and when mother is away I really can’t 
get any time to study; or if I do have time in 
the evening, I am too tired.” 

“Of course you are,” Bert answered. “But 
see here, Janie, you ’re not very aged yet. 
You ’ve all your life before you, and it is n’t 
likely you ’ll ^be quite so busy after a little. 
That ’s a comfort to me — to think that I can 
keep on learning as long as I live. But here ’s 
our car.” 

Dick sprang on as the car stopped, but Bert 
stepped aside and let Janie enter before him. 
Every seat in the car was filled, when an old col- 
ored woman entered with a big basket. She 
was not tall enough to reach the straps, and as 
the car swung around the curves she had hard 
work to stand. Bert rose and gave her his seat, 


242 


Nkxt-Door Neighbors. 


and she dropped into it instantly with no word 
of thanks. 

“What did you give up your seat to that old 
darky for?” Dick said, as they left the car. 
“She didn’t even thank you for it.” 

“It wasn’t for the sake of getting thanks 
that I did it,” answered Bert, quietly. “It was 
just a bit of the King’s business and he began 
at once to speak of something else, while Dick 
thought wonderingly to himself, “ Giving an 
ungrateful old darky a seat, a part of the King’s 
business ! I ’d like to know what is n't his busi- 
ness, then.” 

But it was her first row on the river that 
Janie enjoyed most of all her outings. The 
boys had had several such excursions, but Janie, 
in all the fifteen years of her life, had never 
before set foot in a row-boat, so it had all the 
charm of perfect novelty to her. Just before 
they started, Bert produced a bunch of sweet 
English violets. 

“O, where did you get them?” cried Janie. 
“ I think they are the loveliest flowers that grow.” 

“Pin them on your dress,” he answered, 
smiling at her pleasure. “I believe Helen is 
never quite happy unless she has a bunch of vio- 
lets tucked up under her throat.” 


At the Zoo. 


243 


“ For ine to wear!” cried Janie. “O!” and 
she turned quickly away to hide the wave of 
color that flushed her cheeks. Flowers in the 
house, and even on the table, she was used to 
now, but never yet had she worn any herself. 
She was sure Dick and Marianna would have 
shouted at the idea; but Dick, though he 
glanced with a queer expression at the flowers 
now, said nothing, as Janie, with a happy little 
heart-throb, pinned the blossoms to her dress. 

She felt as if she were in a dream as she took 
her seat in the stern of the long, narrow boat, 
and listened to Bert’s laughing instructions as 
he put the ropes in her hands and warned her 
not to run them on the rocks. As the boys took 
the oars, and the boat began to glide smoothly 
and swiftly along, a happy light brightened the 
girl’s eyes. She did not want to talk — only to 
sit quietly there, and take in all the beauty of 
sky and water and shore, and realize, as the 
boats full of gay young parties passed swiftly 
by, that for once she was in the good times — 
not looking on from the outside. 

On and on they went, till the city was left far 
behind, and only an occasional house dotted the 
wooded shores. At last they landed in a rocky 
inlet where there was a spring of sweet, cold 


244 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


water, and here they disposed of the appetizing 
little supper that Mrs. Brown had put up 
for them. 

It was so still and beautiful there, with no 
sounds but the lapping of the water on the rocks 
and the soft rustling of the leaves, with now and 
then a little sleepy bird-note, that Janie felt as 
if she could have staid there for hours and en- 
joyed every minute, watching the glowing, 
shifting colors of the sunset sky ; but as the light 
faded and the soft, dusky mantle of twilight 
dropped swiftly and silently over the landscape, 
the boys sprang up, and Janie followed them to 
the boat. Long before they reached the city the 
silvery light of the moon had added a new 
beauty to the scene. 

“O!” said Janie, with a happy sigh, “ I never 
knew it could be so beautiful!” 

“Let ’s sing,” said Bert. “ I always want to 
sing when I ’m on the water on a moon- 
light night.” 

“You’ll have to do all the singing,” said 
Dick; “none of us Browns can sing a note.” 

Janie did wish Dick had not said that. She 
knew she could not sing very much, but, like 
Bert, she felt as if she must sing then to express 
her happiness; but after that careless brotherly 


At the Zoo. 


245 


speech of Dick’s she could not open her lips. 
She would not let the little shadow spoil her 
happy evening, however. How could she, when, 
as she dropped her head, she caught a fresh 
breath of violet fragrance? She touched linger- 
ingly and lovingly the purple blossoms, and the 
shadow of Dick’s careless words vanished, while 
he never suspected that he had said any- 
thing amiss. 

The last week in August, Bert proposed what 
he called a “family junketing,” and when Tommy 
heard that the Zoo was their destination, and 
that they were to spend a whole day in that 
world of wonders, to him, he was almost too 
happy for words. He talked to the baby, and 
told him so many wonderful stories about the 
strange creatures he would see, that if his 
mother had not been going along too, the baby 
would have been afraid to venture. 

Great preparations in the cooking line were 
made; “for I know how hungry you’ll all be 
after traipsin’ round ’mongst all those wild crea- 
tures,” Mrs. Brown had said; and so several big 
baskets were filled with eatables, while Tommy 
begged for a nickel to buy a pint of peanuts to 
feed the elephants. 

“ Feed the elephants,” remarked Marianna, 


246 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


scornfully; “I don’t believe you’ll dare to go 
near the elephants.” 

Tommy “eyed her over” with scorn quite 
equal to her own. 

“Huh!” he remarked; “much you know 
about elephants. You h’ain’t never seen one.” 

“Have, too,” promptly responded liis sister. 
“Guess I’ve seen more ’n one elephant in the 
circus parades.” 

“O, so you have,” said Tommy, quite meekly 
for him; “but,” he added, “ that ’s nothin’ like 
seein’ ’em up t’ the Zoo. I've seen ’em there !” 

He was wildly impatient to be off, and fol- 
lowed his mother about, asking how soon they 
were to start, until even she lost patience and 
told him sharply that they would n’t start at all 
if he did n’t stop teasing; whereupon he subsided, 
and filled up the interval of waiting by playing 
kangaroo with the baby, the play consisting in 
making flying leaps in a squatting position, with 
his hands hanging down to represent the ani- 
mal’s short fore feet. 

It was about ten o’clock when they at last set 
forth, Mrs. Brown, Janie, and Marianna each 
carrying a basket, and Tommy leading the baby. 
But Tommy’s quick eyes had noted the fact that 
when Bert took Janie, if there was a basket to 


At the Zoo. 


247 


carry, he always took charge of it, so now he in- 
sisted on carrying two of the baskets. 

“Marianna can see to the baby,” he re- 
marked, as he inarched off with a basket on 
each arm. ,But the baskets were heavy and the 
day was warm, and it was not very long before 
Tommy stopped and remarked: 

“S’pose you can take one basket if you want 
to, Janie,” and Janie quickly relieved him of half 
his load. The other basket grew heavier, 
Tommy thought, as he went on; but he held on 
to that manfully all the way. Arrived at the 
Zoo, he at once assumed the office of guide and 
showman, proudly leading the way from one 
house or inclosure to another, and, by virtue of 
his one visit there, taking upon himself to ex- 
plain everything to the rest of 'the party. Ma- 
rianna was so much interested in all she saw 
that she allowed Tommy to go on for some time 
without any remarks from her; but when, with 
the air of one who owned the whole show, he 
said, patronizingly, “Them are the elephants — 
them great big things over there,” Marianna 
cast a withering glance at him as she said : 

“O, I ’m so glad you told us. We all thought 
they were cows ; did n’t we, ma?” 

“Well, I don’t care; you hain’t never fed 


248 Next-Door Neighbors. 

’em with peanuts, an’ I ’in goin’ to now,” said 
Tommy; and off he rushed, pulling the bag of 
nuts from his pocket as he went. But Mari- 
anna was at his heels, and nothing in all the day 
did she enjoy more than tossing a peanut and 
seeing the great mouth open and catch it every 
time, while the big trunk, flourishing so near her 
head, sent delightful shivers of mingled fear and 
enjoyment down her back. 

So interested were the two children that 
they did not notice that the baby had trotted 
along after them, nor hear their mother calling 
to them to look out for him ; and as to the baby, 
he was so filled with wonder at the sight of the 
huge creatures that at first he stood stock still, 
staring at them with mouth and eyes wide open. 
Then, as if fascinated, he crept closer and closer, 
till he slipped under the low fence and stood 
looking up into the face of one of the elephants, 
while Marianna and Tommy, never seeing their 
small brother at all, were trying to see which 
could fire the peanuts most exactly into the big 
pink throat of the other elephant. 

Suddenly there was a shriek from Mrs. Brown 
and Janie, as both came running towards the 
spot, and Marianna and Tommy dropped their 
peanuts and stood with scared faces and fright- 


At the Zoo. 


249 


ened eyes as they turned to see the baby lifted 
in the trunk of the second elephant, and raised 
high above his head. 

“ O, that ’s the ugly elephant/’ gasped Tom- 
my, just as the keeper appeared with the ele- 
phant’s breakfast. His face whitened as he saw 
the child, but he only said quietly : 

“ Put it down, Dunk, or you won’t have any 
breakfast.” 

With an ugly gleam in his little eyes the 
great beast gave the child a toss.. The keeper 
caught him as he fell, and with a long breath of 
relief turned and put him into his mother’s arms. 

“A narrow escape,” he said. “Dunk’s an 
ugly customer. If he had n’t seen that I had 
his breakfast he ’d have killed the child, sure.” 

Mrs. Brown in a trembling voice explained 
how it had happened, and thanked the man, and 
then led all the children off to a quiet part of 
the grounds to rest and recover from their 
fright and excitement. The baby had suffered 
least of any of them. It had all happened in so 
few seconds, that he had not realized his danger 
enough to cry out before it was all over. 

“I declare, I wish we ’d staid at home,” Mrs. 
Brown exclaimed as, still pale and trembling, 
she dropped down upon a rocky seat. But 
17 






250 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Janie answered cheerily, though her cheeks, too, 
had not yet recovered their healthy color: 

“Tet ’s have dinner now. That will rest us, 
and we shall all feel better after it;” and though 
the mother felt as if she could not eat a mouth- 
ful, yet when Janie had spread a towel on a flat 
part of the rocky ledge, and set forth the tempt- 
ing dishes, they found that they could all eat, 
and they did feel decidedly better after the 
meal. 

“The baskets will be lighter, too,” Janie 
said, as she gathered up the dishes afterward, 
making her mother sit still and rest. 

As for Tommy, he kept fast hold of the 
baby’s hand, and would not let him take a step 
alone. 

When the baskets were repacked, the whole 
party went around to see the rest of the animals. 
Marianna was very much afraid that one might 
be overlooked, and she was determined to see 
every one, so that Tommy might not be able 
in future to say that he had seen something 
there that she had not. To her, as to Tommy, 
the monkey cages were very attractive, and the 
two lingered there until their mother declared 
that she must sit down somewhere and rest. 

“O do let me an’ Tommy stay here a little 


At thk Zoo. 


251 


longer, ma,” pleaded Marianna. “You an’ Janie 
can sit down outside on one of the benches an’ 
wait for us.” 

“ I ’m afraid you ’ll get into trouble some- 
how,” said the mother, with a vivid recollection 
of the baby’s peril. 

“O no, ma; we’ll stay right here by the 
monkeys. Do let us,” pleaded Marianna. 

“ Well, mind then, that you do n’t go near 
the other cages,” the mother answered, glancing 
with a shudder at the beautiful spotted leopards 
on the other side of the building, as she and 
Janie, with the reluctant baby, who would have 
preferred to stay with Tommy, passed outside, 
leaving the other two watching the antics of the 
cage full of monkeys. 

“ See that big feller — the biggest of all. 
Guess he’s the old gran’pa!” remarked Tommy. 

“O look, Tommy!” cried Marianna, “one of 
the little monkeys is swinging on the old one’s 
tail.” 

“ Ow !” yelled Tommy, a moment later, “ he ’s 
got my hat.” 

In their deep interest in the big cage, the 
children had not noticed the two monkeys in 
the cage adjoining, close to which Tommy was 
standing, and one of these monkeys had slyly 


252 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


snatched his straw hat and retreated with it to 
the furthest corner of the cage, where he was 
rapidly tearing it into strips. 

“ Now, Tommy Brown, I guess you’ll get a 
scoldin’! Your best straw hat!” began Mari- 
anna, in the elder-sisterly tone that Tommy 
always resented; but the next instant, shriek 
after shriek rang through the building, and 
there was Marianna drawn close against the 
big cage by the old grandfather monkey himself, 
who had caught her by the hair, which was just 
long enough to braid, and with his feet against 
the wires of the cage was pulling at the braid 
with all his might. 

Such a commotion as there was there then! 
Marianna continued to shriek with fear and 
pain ; Tommy tried in vain to pull her away 
from the monkey’s grasp; Mrs. Brown, with the 
baby in her arms and Janie following, rushed in 
white with fear; the keepers ran from all direc- 
tions, while the monkeys chattered, the lions 
roared, the tigers and leopards growled and 
dashed about their cages, and a general pande- 
monium prevailed for a few minutes. But the 
keepers speedily released Marianna, who, having 
seen quite enough of the monkeys for one day, 
was very willing to depart. 


At the Zoo. 


253 


“But where’s your hat, Tommy?” said 
Janie. 

Tommy pointed to the cage where the 
monkeys were picking the last strips into bits. 

“Guess I do n’t care for monkeys any more,” 
he remarked, as he marched out of the building. 

The boys, Bert and Dick, joined the party at 
four o’clock, and they all had a picnic supper, 
supplemented with some ice-cream from the 
cafe at the entrance of the grounds. Even the 
children had had enough of the Zoo by that 
time, and were ready to go home, and to go 
early to bed when they got home ; while Mrs. 
Brown, as she dropped wearily into her rocking- 
chair, said, with heartfelt emphasis: 

“Deliver me from another trip to that place! 
What with elephants and monkeys, and the 
roarin’s and screechin’s of all of those strange 
creatures, I feel ’s if I should n’t rest in my bed 
for a week.” 

But Marianna and Tommy by the next morn- 
ing had forgotten the terrors and trials of their 
expedition, and for weeks after played “Zoo” in 
every conceivable fashion. 


CHAPTER XXL 


A LONELY LITTLE RICH CHILD. 

T HE middle of September brought Mrs. Mor- 
ris, Helen, and Johnny home again — Mrs. 
Morris so much stronger that Bert could find no 
words for his satisfaction. Helen, too, looked 
much stronger and healthier, while Johnny was 
another boy altogether. Actually, the baby did 
not know him at first, and Janie felt as if she 
never had known him as she heard him singing 
and whistling about the house, and begging to 
be allowed to go to school with Tommy. 

“ My! Johnny can talk, can’t he !” Marianna ' 
remarked one day, when he had been holding 
forth about the good times he had had at the 
seashore. “ But I do n’t believe that Florence 
and Grade Van Ness he talks so much about, 
are half as nice and pretty as my little girl.” 

“Your little girl,” said Tommy. “I think 
it ’s real mean an’ selfish of you, Marianna 
Brown, to call Lily Elliot yours all the time.” 

“ Well, she ain’t yours ) is she ?” said Marianna, 
shortly. “ Anyway, I wish ’t she ’d come 
254 


A Lonely Little Rich Child. 255 

home,” she added, looking up at the closed 
shutters of the big house. 

A week later she did come home. Marianna 
rushed into the house, her eyes shining with 
delight as she cried : 

“She’s come! She’s come! O Janie, my 
little girl ’s come home. I saw her get out of 
the carriage, and she smiled at me — she did 
truly.” 

“Mebbe ’t was me she smiled at,” teasingly 
remarked Tommy, who had followed his sis- 
ter in. 

Marianna glanced at him, but she was too 
happy to snap out as she would have done at 
another time. Instead, she ran out in the yard 
and stationed herself in full view of the little 
balcony; but Lillian did not appear there that 
night. 

Mrs. Brown’s resting-time was over, and she 
had gone the week before to another patient ; 
but this time there was no contagious disease, 
so she hoped soon to come home and get a 
glimpse of Johnny, and see for herself the 
wonderful improvement of which Helen had 
written. 

Before the mother was called away, she and 
Janie had bought, with the birthday gold-pieces, 


256 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


a pretty ingrain carpet for the little parlor, and 
before it was laid, Dick had insisted upon 
having the room newly papered. When this 
was done, and the new carpet put down, the 
little room was vastly improved ; but Janie and 
Dick were planning still further improvements 
to follow. 

Janie found that all her outings were not 
ended, now that Helen had returned and she 
herself was once more the housekeeper. Mrs. 
Morris was so much better that she could be up 
and about most of the time, and now and then 
she would send the three young people off, 
while she took charge of the baby, who was 
always good and happy with her. 

Dick had begged so hard to be allowed to 
remain with Mr. Small, that his mother had 
consented, on condition that he should keep on 
regularly with his stenography with Bert, and 
Dick began to feel himself quite a man of 
business. 

The house seemed very quiet to Janie when 
all the children except the baby were at school. 
Not that Johnny had been noisy when he was at 
home, but still he had always been there, and 
the baby played much more quietly all by him- 
self. He was three years old now, and could 


A Lonely Little Rich Child. 257 

talk as well as any of them; but in that respect 
he was still a very quiet little fellow, and half 
the time used his old baby signs instead of 
words. 

It was on Friday that the Elliots came 
home, and the next day Marianna staid hour 
after hour in the yard, playing in a half-hearted 
sort of way with the little boys, but keeping 
constant watch of Lillian’s windows and bal- 
cony. 

Once the child appeared for a moment at 
the window; but she only gave a fleeting smile 
in response to Marianna’s cry of welcome, and 
vanished from the window, nor did she appear 
there again through all the morning. 

Marianna would not play any more with the 
boys, but went to work in her flower-garden, 
still keeping vain watch of the balcony. She 
did not eat much dinner, and in the afternoon 
begged Janie to let her put on a clean dress. 

“ A clean dress to play in Saturday after- 
noon — why, what do you want that for, Mari- 
anna?” questioned her sister. 

Marianna hung her head and looked con- 
fused as she answered : 

“O just because I do, Janie. An’ I ain’t 
going to play with the boys, truly I ain’t. I ’ll 


258 Next-Door Neighbors. 

just take a chair out in the yard, an’ sit there 
an’ read.” 

“ Well, if you want to do that, you can,” 
Janie answered, wondering much at this new 
freak of her sister’s. 

So Marianna washed her face and hands, 
brushed and braided her hair, and put on her 
clean gingham dress, and, with her book in her 
hands, sat watching Lillian’s windows till supper- 
time; but not one glimpse of the blue eyes and 
golden head did she get. 

She went supperless to bed that night, and 
Janie wondered anxiously if she were going to 
be sick. When Janie herself went to bed, 
Marianna was lying with her face to the wall, 
and her sister supposed she was asleep, till a 
little stifled sob caught her ear. 

“Why, Marianna, are you awake?” she said. 

“Yes,” came the reply, in a muffled voice. 

“Are you sick?” Janie asked. 

“N-no.” 

“Well then, what is the matter, Marianna? 
Tell me, dear,” said Janie, putting her arm 
about the child. 

That last word opened Marianna’s sore heart. 
She turned over and buried her face on Janie’s 
shoulder, sobbing bitterly. 


A Lonely Little Rich Child. 259 

“It ’s — it ’s my little girl,” she cried. “She 
would n’t look out, nor speak to me, nor — nor 
anything, to-day.” 

“ Maybe she was not at home when you were 
in the yard,” suggested Janie. 

“Yes, she was, Janie. She came to the 
window once, an’ I called to her, an’ she just 
gave a little, teeny mite of a smile an’ went 
away from the window, an’ she never came back 
at all,” and Marianna sobbed in such a heart- 
broken way as Janie had never known her to do 
before. 

“Don’t cry so, dear; don’t, Marianna. I 
do n’t believe it was anything, but just that it 
happened so.” 

“ No,” said Marianna; “ ’cause’if it had been, 
she would have come to the balcony and said 
so. They won’t let her talk to me any more ; I 
know they won’t; and O, Janie, I do feel so 
bad!” 

Janie’s eyes filled as she saw how Marianna 
had taken the matter to heart. She did her best 
to comfort her, but there was not much she could 
say. In her heart she believed that Marianna 
was right, and that the Elliots did not want 
little Lillian to have anything to do with her 
young neighbors. It would have been some 


26 o 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


comfort to Marianna if she had known that, in 
the big house next door, the little child who had 
so won her heart, cried herself to sleep, too; 
and without any kind, big sister to whisper 
comforting words to her. 

And this was the way of it. 

Mrs. Elliot had very strongly disapproved of 
her little daughter having anything to do with 
the next-door children. She had not been able 
to prevent the talk and play between yard and 
balcony in the early summer ; but during their 
absence she had talked to her husband about 
the matter, bringing forward so many reasons 
why it should be stopped, that at last, wearied 
to death with the endless talk about it, he had 
given in, saying : 

“ O well, Clara, have your own way. I think 
it ’s all nonsense to interfere with the play and 
talk. It amuses Lillian, and I can’t see any 
possible harm that she could get from those 
children; but if you ’re determined to put a stop 
to it, I suppose it must be so; but, for pity’s sake, 
do n’t let me hear any more about it.” 

This was the last talk there had been on 
the subject, and nothing was said to the little 
girl until the day of her return. She — poor, 
lonely, little rich child — had been looking for- 


A Lonely IviTTivK Rich Chiijd. 


26 


ward with glad anticipations to the home- 
coming, and a renewal of the happy hours on 
the balcony, watching and talking with “ those 
nice, funny Brown children.” So her grief and 
disappointment were quite equal to Marianna’s 
when her mother told her that hereafter she 
was to have nothing whatever to do with the 
children. 

“O mamma,” she cried, “I did have such 
nice times watching them play, before we went 
away. Can’t I just watch them, if I won’t 
talk to them a single bit?” 

“ No, Lillian, you can not. Now do n’t fret 
and tease. If you do, I shall think you have 
already learned bad manners from them. Now 
run away to Marie. She will read to you out of 
the new books Aunt May sent you.” 

Lillian choked back her sobs ; but two big 
tears rolled down her cheeks as she turned 
away and went slowly to her room. Marie had 
received similar orders from her mistress, so she 
knew what made the child’s lace so full of dis- 
tress. She did not like this new rule, for she 
had had much more leisure when Lillian spent 
so many happy hours on the balcony ; but her 
regret was not all selfish. She really loved the 
little girl, and was sorry for her disappointment. 


262 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


So she spoke kindly to her, and tried to amuse 
her ; but Lillian turned away, only saying gently : 

“ No, thank you, Marie, I do n’t want to 
play now.” 

Forgetting for the moment, she went to the 
window, and caught a glimpse of poor Marianna 
watching there for her. She knew that it was 
for her that Marianna was waiting; but she 
could do nothing but throw her little friend that 
bit of a smile, and then run and bury her head 
in the sofa-pillow and cry, nor could all Marie’s 
persuasions and petting comfort her. 

She had one hope left. When papa came to 
tell her good-night she would appeal to him ; 
but that was just what papa meant to avoid, 
and so he only stopped a moment. He was in 
evening dress and the carriage was waiting, and 
the little girl knew she must not detain him 
then. 

The next day he ordered a lot of new toys 
for her, among them the loveliest of dolls that 
could stand alone and say, “ Mary had a little 
lamb;” but though she smiled and thanked him 
in her sweet way, she did not care for the play- 
things, and he saw it. 

After a little she began to understand that 
papa did not mean to talk to her about the 


A Lonely Little Rich Child. 263 

thing that was troubling her so much. When 
she tried to tell him about it, he would not 
listen, but would begin some nonsense story, or 
tell her something that he had seen down town 
that day. 

Then she gave it all up. She never went 
near the side window any more, nor out on the 
balcony. She did not care for her books or 
playthings. She went out with her mother in 
the carriage every day, or for a walk with Marie, 
and when at night her father came to sit with 
her, she would climb into his lap, and lay her 
golden head on his shoulder, and listen to what 
he had to say ; but she scarcely talked at all 
herself. Only when he said “ good-night” she 
would put her arms close about his neck and 
kiss him again and again — long, clinging kisses 
that somehow always brought a choking feeling 
into his throat. 

It was after one of these good-nights, about 
three weeks after their return, that he went to 
his wife’s room. 

“Clara,” he said, “I think it is a shame to 
shut Lillian off so from those children next 
door. The poor little thing is n’t half as bright 
and happy as she was before we went away. 
She is n’t happy at all, in fact. She ’s as white 


264 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


as her name flower, and — I tell you I can’t stand 
it much longer.” 

“ Dear me, Charles,” his wife answered, “ I 
do wish you would have a little more consider- 
ation for my nerves. You are so brusque! As 
to Lillian — it is perfectly absurd to talk as if 
she were grieving because she is not allowed to 
talk and play with a pack of noisy common chil- 
dren who happen — more ’s the pity — to live next 
door to us. Lillian is a little lady. She 
could n’t possibly learn anything that she ought 
to learn from such children, and if you think 
them fit associates for our daughter, / do not; 
and, besides, that sort of people are always 
having low, horrid diseases, like mumps and 
measles and scarlet fever. Suppose Lillian 
should catch scarlet fever from them. It can 
be given so easily ; and their mother is a nurse, 
and, of course, goes among all sorts of sick 
people. Perhaps you want to expose our pre- 
cious child to scarlet fever.” 

“O pshaw! I don’t believe there’s a bit of 
danger of it. She ’s far more likely to pine 
away and die for lack of some bright, healthy 
playmates,” said Mr. Elliot, as he left the room. 

But his wife knew that she had used the 
strongest possible argument with him. They 


A Lonely Littlk Rich Child. 265 

had lost two children with scarlet fever, and the 
mere mention of the disease in connection with 
Lillian filled him with uneasiness. So he gave 
the matter up for the time, but he watched with 
growing anxiety his little pale daughter, who 
seemed to grow day by day whiter and more 
frail. 

When at last she began to droop so percep- 
tibly that even her mother was alarmed, a doctor 
was called in, and a sea voyage prescribed. So 
they took the little girl to Cuba, and the house 
was shut up again for a month or more. 

Meantime, as the days went on and her pretty 
little friend never appeared to nod or smile to 
her from window or balcony, Marianna at last 
gave up expecting her to do so ; but the disap- 
pointment had a wonderfully lasting effect upon 
her. It was a strangely strong hold that the 
child had taken upon her fancy and her affec- 
tion. An ordinary child would never have won 
such a place in her heart, for Marianna was 
by no means an affectionate little girl; but 
Lillian was so unlike any one she had ever 
known. She seemed, to rough, wild, homely Ma- 
rianna, like a being from another world ; and to 
have such a sweet, beautiful little creature to 
talk to her, and to play with her, seemed to have 
17 


266 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


lifted Marianna out of much of her roughness 
and coarseness, and now this bitter disappoint- 
ment changed her yet more. She grew more 
quiet and gentle, and lost much of her sharp- 
ness. She preferred Johnny’s quieter plays now, 
to Tommy’s rough-and-tumble games, and from 
Johnny she began to learn some strange, 
new lessons. 

Johnny was growing strong, and life was 
quite a new thing to him. He was listless and 
fretful no longer, and Janie was beginning to 
lean upon him, and find him a real help and 
comfort. 

On the first of October he began delivering 
papers, as Dick had done until he went into the 
florist’s shop, and with the very first dollar that 
was paid him he bought a little silver cross like 
Helen’s and fastened it on his jacket. He had 
to endure no end of jokes and jibes from the 
boys at school when he first wore it, but somehow 
Johnny didn’t seem to mind that a bit; and 
finding that he would not be teased or tor- 
mented into tears or fighting, the boys after 
awhile gave it up, and Johnny wore his silver 
cross in peace. Tommy eyed it thoughtfully 
more than once, but he made no remark about 


A Lonely Little Rich Child. 267 


it; and Dick, too, though he noticed it, said 
nothing ; but one day Marianna asked him what 
he wore it for. His quiet answer set her to 
thinking, and when Marianna once began to 
think, something was apt to come of it. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


LIFE OR DEATH. 


HE September days slipped away, and Oc- 



I tober came. Dick’s garden was a sight 
worth seeing; for he had replaced the annuals 
with late roses, asters, and chrysanthemums, 
and everything seemed to bloom at his touch. 
Dick was a florist heart and soul now, and 
delighted in the new and rare plants with 
which he was filling up all the space in the long 
back yard. He expected to get back all and 
more than the plants had cost by the sale of cut 
blossoms from his late chrysanthemums. 

“Some of those big, crinkly blossoms will 
bring twenty-five cents apiece,” he declared one 
day; whereat Marianna opened her eyes, and 
determined to have chrysanthemums instead of 
sunflowers in her garden next year — even 
though her sunflower-seeds had all been sold, 
and the nice little sum received for them was 
tucked away in a box in her own special drawer 
in the bureau. 

Marianna^seldom looked up to Eillian’s bal- 
cony in these days. She never could look up 


268 


IvIFK OR DKATH. 


269 


without a heart-aclie; for though she felt sure 
now that her little friend was lost to her, yet 
she could not forget her. She half wished some- 
times that she could forget and not care. 

It was Tommy who, one morning in late Oc- 
tober, called out suddenly, “O, I say, Marianna, 
I guess she ’s come back — your little girl, you 
know. See, the windows are open.” 

Wondering even then at Tommy’s saying 
“ your little girl,” Marianna cast a hasty glance 
up at the window and balcony ; but no blue eyes 
and golden hair curls were visible, and with a 
sigh she turned away and did not look up again. 
If she had, she would have caught a glimpse of 
a sober little face that, after one long, earnest 
look at her drooping head, turned away with a 
sigh as deep and heartfelt as Marianna’s own. 

The Cuban voyage had been a pleasant one, 
and Lillian had enjoyed it, and seemed so much 
brighter and stronger that her father was de- 
lighted, and her mother said, complacently: “I 
said it was just change that she needed, and you 
see that I was right.” 

But as soon as she was at home she began to 
droop again, and Mrs. Elliot was considering the 
question of sending her to some very select 
school when all her plans were suddenly upset. 


270 * Next-Door Neighbors. 

It was the last week in October when Mari- 
anna and Tommy, returning from an errand, 
passed the Elliots’ house. A carriage stood be- 
fore the door, and Marianna, looking at it, said 
in a troubled voice: “Tommy, isn’t that Dr. 
Corson’s buggy?” 

“ I don’ know,” said Tommy, glancing up at 
the house. Then he cried, quickly: “O Mari- 
anna, look ! look !” 

Marianna’s eyes followed his finger and saw 
beside the beautiful door a red placard, fastened 
to the front of the house. 

With a stifled cry she ran swiftly home, 
dashed into the sitting-room where Janie sat 
sewing, and flung herself down with her head 
in her sister’s lap. “ O Janie ! Janie !” she cried, 
sobbing as if her heart would break. 

Janie looked up with startled eyes. “O! 
what is it? What is the matter? What is it, 
Tommy?” she cried, seeing that Marianna was 
too distressed to speak. 

“Somebody’s got scarlet fever — in the El- 
liots’,” he said, in a low voice. 

“O!” cried Janie, understanding at once her 
sister’s distress. “I am so sorry, Marianna. 
Do n’t cry so — maybe she ’ll only have it lightly, 
same as you and Tommy did, you know.” 


Life or Death. 


271 


But Marianna shook her head. 

“No, she’ll die, I know she will; and they 
would n’t let her speak to me — and I did love 
her so” she sobbed, with her face still hidden 
in Janie’s lap. 

It was long before she could be comforted, 
and through the weeks that followed it is safe 
to say that no one outside of the child’s imme- 
diate family suffered keener anxiety than did 
Marianna; for week followed week, and in the 
big house all was gloom and sorrow. 

When the doctor declared Lillian’s disease 
to be scarlet fever, her mother took to her bed, 
and a nurse had to be procured for her and 
another for Lillian. It was a time of much 
sickness in the city, and nurses were hard to 
get. The one who was obtained for the little 
girl had been constantly busy for many weeks, 
and as the days went by and the fever burned 
more fiercely, the nurse at last found her 
strength failing, and told Mr. Elliot that she 
must have a rest, and he must get some one 
else. When at last one was secured, she was 
a young woman whose experience had been 
small, and, what made matters worse, Lillian 
took a dislike to her from the first, and could 
not bear to have her about. 


272 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Mr. Elliot was in despair. Of all the serv- 
ants, only the cook had remained in the house. 
All the others left as soon as they knew that the 
child had the fever. Even Marie had packed 
her trunk and fled the very first day. Mr. 
Elliot himself did everything that he could do; 
but when the last nurse proved so complete 
a failure, he did not know what to do. He 
was sitting in the library, his face buried in 
his hands, trying to decide what was best, when 
there came a knock at the door — the bell had 
been muffled lest its ringing should disturb the 
child. 

Mr. Elliot opened the door. A short, stout 
woman, with a pleasant face, stood there. 

“ I came,” she began, but Mr. Elliot inter- 
rupted her quickly : 

“We have scarlet fever in the house. Did 
you not notice the placard?” he said. 

The little woman smiled. 

“Yes,” she said. “If you will let me come 
in, I will tell you why I have come.” 

He held the door wide open then, and the 
little woman stepped into the beautiful hall. 

“I heard from Dr. Corson that you need a 
nurse,” she said. 

“Yes,” said Mr. Elliot, quickly; “I will pay 


Life or Death. 


273 


any price for a good, strong nurse who under- 
stands her business, and will stay with us till — ” 
He stopped abruptly ; but the little woman 
finished his sentence in a cheery tone that made 
him feel hopeful in spite of the vivid picture of 
the little patient that rose before his mind’s eye. 

“ Till the little girl is well again,” she said. 
“ I am a nurse. Dr. Corson will tell you that I 
understand my business, and I have come to 
stay if you want me.” 

“ Thank God !” said Mr. Elliot. “ No words 
of mine can tell you how welcome you are.” 

“ Then take me to the child at once, if you 
please,” she answered, and without another 
word he led the way to the sick-room. 

It was night, and the young nurse sat by the 
bedside with her eyes closed. She started up 
as the two entered, and the little woman said 
kindly : 

“I ’ve come to relieve you. You need a good 
night’s rest. Go and get it. I slept well last 
night, and can watch with the child.” 

The nurse, with a sigh of relief, gladly de- 
parted, and the little woman stood looking down 
on the sick child, so sadly, sadly changed from 
the beautiful little creature that had won the 
love of her small neighbor. 


274 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


The golden curls had been cut off, the rosy 
lips were blue and parched, the beautiful eyes 
were closed, and the soft hands hot and dry. 

“ Poor little lamb !” the new nurse murmured. 
“But, please God, we’ll pull her through yet, 
sir. Now, if you ’ll show me where to get things, 
you, too, can get a rest — for you look as if you 
needed it sorely — and there ’ll be no change to- 
night.” 

Mr. Elliot showed her where to find whatever 
might be needed, and went away with such a 
sense of relief as he had not felt for many a day. 
A nurse that Dr. Corson recommended, he knew 
could be trusted ; and there was something 
about this little woman that made one feel that 
she knew what to do and how to do it. Mrs. 
Brown was the name that she had given ; but 
Brown is such a common name that it was 
many days before Mr. Elliot knew that his new 
nurse was also his neighbor. 

The November days were sad and anxious 
ones in the big house, for in spite of all that 
doctor and nurse could do, day by day the fever 
burned more fiercely, till it seemed as if the 
little life must go out. But day and night the 
tireless nurse was on the watch ; it seemed as if 
she never slept, so constantly was she at her 


Life or Death. 


275 


post ; and whatever her fears, no one ever saw 
her pleasant face clouded, or heard a word of 
discouragement fall from her lips. 

The fever reached its height at last, and the 
crisis came — the night when the little life hung 
in the balance, and no mortal could tell what 
the end would be. A solemn silence reigned 
throughout the great house. Not even a passing 
vehicle broke the strange stillness, for cords had 
been stretched across the street at each end of 
the block. 

Mrs. Elliot had been brought to the room 
early in the evening to look once more on the 
little face whose childish beauty had been her 
pride. After that one glance she had been 
taken back to her bed, where she moaned and 
sobbed the long night through. The father and 
the nurse sat one on each side of the little white 
bed; the father watching with anguished eyes 
that face dearer to him than any other in all the 
world ; the nurse, with a prayer in her heart, 
hardly breathing in her deep anxiety. 

Slowly, so slowly, the little French clock 
ticked away the minutes, the quarters, the 
hours, and still the child lay motionless, her 
breath so faint that more than once the father 
thought it had ceased. Never could he forget 


276 Next-Door Neighbors. 

that night. It seemed to him a thousand 
anxious nights rolled into one. 

But the little child’s work was not done yet. 
She did not die, though the fever left her so 
weak that it seemed for long as if she would 
drift away in spite of all that love and care 
could do for her. But slowly she began at last 
to gain. She did not ask who her nurse was, 
but turned to her as readily as if she had known 
her always; and as she grew better she was not 
willing to have Mrs. Brown out of her sight. 

Marianna, from the next yard, often and often 
looked up to I/illian’s window now. It was 
through her that her mother had gone to offer 
her services to Mr. Elliot. Marianna, consumed 
with anxiety about the sick child, seldom allowed 
the doctor to drive off without asking how she 
was, and one day he told her how sadly a nurse 
was needed. 

“ I wish that good mother of yours could go 
there,” he had said, as he drove off; and, without 
even waiting to say a word to Janie, Marianna 
had started off on the run for the house where 
her mother was then employed. Her patient, 
as it happened, was so nearly well that she 
could be spared, and Marianna’s extraordinary 
interest in, and anxiety about, Eillian moved her 


IylFE OR Death. 


277 


mother to go, as she begged her to do, and nurse 
the child. From the hour that her mother was in- 
stalled as nurse, Marianna’s hope began to grow. 
It wavered and almost died out that dreadful 
night; for the child had made her mother 
promise to put a bulletin in the window every 
day. So, day after t day, a big placard was 
placed in the window, and not Marianna alone, 
but every one of the children, would run out 
before breakfast to read the message written 
there in big letters. 

For many, many days it read, “ No better,” 
or “ No change,” till Marianna knew the heart- 
sickness of hope deferred. Not till the mother 
was at home again did they hear the story of 
that night of awful fear and anxiety; but the 
next morning they knew that there was hope. 

It was Tommy who ran out first that morn- 
ing. Tommy now, as he proudly proclaimed to 
any one who asked, “ past seven years old,” 
was not a brilliant scholar — neither was his 
mother for the matter of that— but he did man- 
age to spell out in his mother’s crabbed writing, 
“ There is hope,” and he rushed into the house, 
crying out: 

“Marianna, Marianna, Marianna ! she zs 
better! She is, she is!” 


278 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


And then Marianna had to run out and read 
the message for herself. Such a bright face as 
she had when she came dancing back into the 
kitchen, half laughing and half crying, as she 
said : 

“I knew she ’d get well if mother went there. 
I knew she would; and O, Janie, I ’m so glad I 
just want to scream.” 

But many more days went by before that 
glad morning when Marianna, running out to 
read the latest bulletin, found mother herself 
standing on the balcony. 

“Call Janie,” she said. “I want to say a 
word to her.” 

The word proved to be quite a lengthy one, 
for it was now four weeks since she had seen 
any of her children to speak to them, though 
never a day had passed without every one of them 
getting a word and a smile from her through 
the window. Now she had many directions to 
give, and innumerable questions from the eager 
Marianna to answer. It was just as she was 
about to go back to her little charge that Mari- 
anna, who had suddenly darted into the house, 
came out again with a pot of great, white chrys- 
anthemums, all in bloom. 

“O mother,” she cried, “can’t I give it to 


Life or Death. 


279 


her — to my little girl ? I ’ve been keepin’ it an’ 
tendin’ it for her ever since you ’ve been there.” 

“Well, yes,” said the mother. “I guess it 
won’t do any harm. If you go an’ set it on the 
doorsteps, I ’ll get it and give it to her.” 

Not stopping for a single word, Marianna 
dashed through the house and around to the 
steps, then back again to the yard. Her mother 
had left the balcony. Marianna waited, her 
eyes fixed on the window. It seemed to her she 
had waited an age, though really it was not ten 
minutes, when her heart gave a great throb of 
delight; for there at the window stood her 
mother, holding in her arms a pale, shadowy, 
big-eyed little figure, who smiled, and — yes, she 
did actually throw a kiss with her little thin 
fingers to Marianna. 

Marianna was a happy little girl that night, 
almost too happy to sleep; but when her black 
eyes did at last close in slumber, her last thought 
was of that smile and kiss wafted down to her 
from Lillian’s window. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THANKSGIVING AT AUNT SARAH’S 
HANKSGIVING-DAY had passed unnoticed 



I in the big house. Perhaps the cook re- 
membered it, recalling the feast she was accus- 
tomed to prepare on that occasion; and cer- 
tainly Mrs. Brown remembered with a little 
anxiety the message that Janie had written a 
few days before on a big sheet of paper, and 
held up for her mother to read from the window. 
The message was this: 

“Aunt Sarah was here to-day. She says we 
must all go to her house Thanksgiving-day to 
dinner. Must we? We do n’t any of us want to.” 

And the mother had put in the window 
this reply: 

“ I guess you ’d better. She won’t like it if 
you do n’t. Tell the children they must be very 
good and polite at the table.” 

When Janie went into the house a storm of 
questions greeted her. 

“Does she say we must go?” was the burden 
of them all ; and a cloud of gloom settled upon 
every one of the five faces as Janie answered, 


Thanksgiving at Aunt Sarah’s. 281 

soberly: “Yes, she says that we must go, and 
that we must be very quiet and polite.” 

A chorus of groans was the response to this. 
Even the baby groaned, and tried to look as 
cross as his beloved Tommy did, though he 
did n’t know what it was all about; and Tommy 
himself voiced the family sentiment as he mut- 
tered, gloomily, “O shucks! I’d rather not 
have one bit of turkey or mince-pie than to go 
there.” 

But grumbling would not mend matters. An 
invitation from Aunt Sarah was to the Browns 
as an invitation from royalty. It must be ac- 
cepted without regard to liking or disliking. 

So Janie got out all the best clothes, and 
looked them over with anxious care, well know- 
ing that not a spot or rip, not a missing button 
or broken shoestring, would escape Aunt Sarah’s 
eagle eyes. 

Aunt Sarah had been away all through the 
summer, having taken her small daughter to a 
mountain village in New York State. The 
Brown children had not grieved over the ab- 
sence of their relative, whose frequent visits of 
inspection — sure to be followed by reproof and 
unwelcome suggestions — they all dreaded; but 
what was even such a visit in their own home, 
19 


282 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


compared to a day — a whole long, endless day — 
in Aunt Sarah’s house ? 

“I wish we’d have a nawful snowstorm — 
great big drifts, high ’s this house — so we 
couldn’t get there; don’t you, Johnny?” re- 
marked Tommy, the night before Thanksgiving. 
“I do b’lieve V is beginning to snow now,” he 
added joyfully, peering out eagerly. 

“Well, if it does snow, ’t won’t be big drifts 
’nough to keep us home,” responded Johnny, in 
equally gloomy tones. 

“ Wish ’t folks did n’t have to have no ol’ un- 
cles ’n’ aunts,” Tommy continued. 

“So do I — not any like Aunt Sarah ’n’ Uncle 
John,” said Johnny. “Wish I wasn’t named 
like him, neither. He ’ll say I ’m named for 
him. He always does, ’n’ I ain’t.” 

“ / ain’t named like him, anyhow,” said 
Tommy, complacently. 

But the combined hopes of the children for 
a “ nawful storm ” that would be excuse enough 
for their remaining away from the feast at Aunt 
Sarah’s were doomed to disappointment. A 
light snow fell during the night, but the sun 
rose clear on Thanksgiving morning. Such 
doleful faces as gathered round the breakfast 
table ! Only the baby looked smiling and serene 


Thanksgiving at Aunt Sarah’s. 283 

as usual; but the clouds suddenly vanished from 
Janie’s brow, and she broke into a laugh as she 
looked from one to another. 

“ Well, what is it that ’s so funny ? Tell us, 
so we can laugh too,” said Dick, sharply ; but 
his scowl vanished as Janie said, laughingly : 
“You do look so happy — all of you! I was 
thinking how pleased Aunt Sarah and Uncle 
John would be if they could see us now, and 
know what we are all thinking of.” 

But Tommy did not smile. Not one of the 
six dreaded the ordeal as Tommy did. He 
knew too well that he would come in for a lib- 
eral share of reproofs ; for in Tommy’s table 
manners there really was room for improve- 
ment. 

Never did three children take longer to put 
on their Sunday clothes than Marianna, Johnny, 
and Tommy took that day. Janie had dressed 
herself and the baby long before they were 
ready; and when at last they were all dressed, 
Johnny could n’t find his hat; and then Marianna 
had to go back for a handkerchief ; and then 
Tommy suddenly discovered that it was so cold 
out that he must have his mittens, which had 
not been called for since the winter before. 

In spite of her own unpleasant anticipations, 


284 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Janie more than once stifled a laugh as she 
glanced at Marianna and the boys, and noted 
how their gloom deepened as they approached 
Uncle John’s big red-brick house. 

“ Say, Janie, I ain’t hungry. Can’t I go home 
if I’ll go without any dinner? I feel kinder 
sick, I do truly,” Tommy pleaded, as they went 
up the steps; and Marianna listened eagerly, 
ready to say “Me, too,” if Janie had said “yes.” 
But Janie didn’t. She said, gravely : “No, in- 
deed, Tommy ; and now do remember not to put 
your knife in your mouth, and be sure and use 
your napkin.” 

With a mournful expression and a long- 
drawn sigh, Tommy resigned himself to his fate 
then, and they all trooped in as the servant 
opened the door. 

“O, you’ve come, have you?” was Aunt 
Sarah’s greeting, followed by a frosty kiss to 
Janie and Marianna. With the boys she merely 
shook hands, for which favor, or lack of favor, 
they were all — except the baby, who did n’t 
care — devoutly thankful. “ You ’re late enough. 
Seems to me you were n’t in any great hurry to 
get here,” Aunt Sarah added; and Janie hur- 
riedly murmured something about its taking a 
long time to dress so many children, while she 


Thanksgiving at Aunt Sarah’s. 285 

glanced sternly at Tommy, who had nudged 
Johnny and giggled at Aunt Sarah’s remark. 

Uncle John put down his newspaper and 
looked at the children over his spectacles as 
they all filed up to shake hands with him. Uncle 
John never, by any chance, said anything 
pleasant to a child. He did not approve of it. 

“Um,” he remarked, looking at Janie,; “ ye 
do n’t grow any handsomer as ye grow older ; 
do ye, Jane?” 

Then, as the hot color flushed Janie’s cheeks, 
he turned to Dick. 

“So this is the young man that ’d rather be 
an errand-boy in a flower-shop than learn to 
make good, honest hats ! Well, well, every one 
to his choice ; but do n’t expect me to find a 
place for you when you get sick of your flower 
business.” 

Then, as Dick took a seat, with face as flushed 
as Janie’s, Uncle John went on: “So this great 
girl is Marianna! So long since I saw her I al- 
most need an introduction. Go over there and 
talk to Julia; but mind you don’t put any 
romping, toinboyish notions into her head.” 

“ And this is my namesake,” he added, taking 
Johnny’s limp hand and holding it fast as he 
spoke: “Well, John, I hope that by the time 


286 


Nkxt-Door Neighbors. 


you are as old as Dick here, you ’ll show a 
little more sense than he has about choosing a 
business. A boy that is named after me must 
amount to something in the world, you know.” 
He let go of Johnny’s hand and reached for 
Tommy’s, who, forgetting Janie’s oft-repeated 
instructions, stood before his uncle with both 
hands deep in his pockets. 

‘‘Well, Master Tommy, why didn’t you get 
here earlier — hey?” 

Tommy looked hopelessly at his brothers and 
sisters, vainly searching for something to say 
that Janie might possibly consider the proper 
thing. His eye fell on the smallest of his 
brothers and he unearthed one hand and pulled 
him forward. 

“ This is the baby. Ain’t he growin’ big ?” 
he said. 

Uncle John never glanced at the baby ; but 
with his little, twinkling, greenish blue eyes 
fixed on Tommy’s freckled face, he repeated : 
“Why did n’t you get here earlier — hey?” 

“I — I — we — I couldn’t find my mittens,” 
Tommy stammered at last, with a very red 
face. 

“ Mittens !” repeated Uncle John. “ When I 
was your size I never wore any mittens. Boys 


Thanksgiving at Aunt Sarah’s. 287 

were n’t such softies in those days as they 
are now.” 

“Huh,” said Tommy; “I ain’t no softy. I 
hain’t worn mittens one single time this year.” 

“What’d you want ’em for to-day, then?” 
was Uncle John’s prompt question ; and Tommy, 
wriggling uneasily, could find no answer — that 
he dared to utter. 

The hour before dinner was as uncomfort- 
able an hour as the six children had ever passed. 
The boys sat on the edges of their chairs, and 
said nothing except in answer to an occasional 
question from Aunt Sarah ; lor Uncle John, after 
his pleasant review of his young relatives, had 
taken up his paper again and evidently for- 
gotten all about them. 

Marianna and Julia, sitting side by side on 
the lounge, exchanged a whispered word or two 
now and then, interspersed with nervous giggles 
which Aunt Sarah promptly rebuked. The baby 
would have found some happy amusement for 
himself had Janie dared leave him to his own 
devices; but for fear he might touch something 
he ought not, she kept fast hold of his hand, 
very much to his discomfort. As to Dick, he 
looked out of the window in somber silence. 

Aunt Sarah kept up a rambling fire of ques- 


288 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


tions to Janie about her mother and her pa- 
tients, while Johnny tried politely to smother 
his weary yawns, and Tommy made no effort at 
all to smother his. 

The sound of the dinner-bell brought min- 
gled relief and anxiety to them all. It was a 
relief to have the stiff circle broken up ; but O, 
with what inward fear and trembling Janie 
thought of what Tommy and the baby might 
do! She had tried her best to prepare them 
for every emergency, but she remembered now 
a dozen more warnings that she ought to have 
given them. 

Aunt Sarah was very proud of her table, and 
it was her boast that there never was a time 
when her husband could not bring a guest home 
to dinner without a word of warning to her, and 
she counted it no small self-sacrifice to have in- 
vited these six children to sit at her board 
to-day. She said to herself that she only hoped 
that they appreciated their privileges ; but she 
did n’t believe they did. 

She was right — they did not. Except the 
baby, every one of them was longing that mo- 
ment for the familiar round table in the little 
kitchen at home. During the long grace, Janie’s 
cheeks burned as she heard the baby drumming 


Thanksgiving at Aunt Sarah’s. 289 

on the table with his knife. Luckily his seat 
was next her own, so she slipped her hand over 
his and held it still ; but he thought that was 
part of a frolic, so his merry laugh rang out as 
Janie raised her head. Then, of course, Tommy 
had to chuckle ; but he relapsed into frowning 
gravity as Uncle John glanced sternly at him 
over his spectacles. 

“ Now, Tommy, be sure to use your napkin,” 
was one of the warnings that Janie had most 
frequently impressed upon her heedless small 
brother, and now she looked at him and mo- 
tioned towards it. 

“What? O!” he exclaimed aloud, and began 
hurriedly to unfold his napkin and spread it on 
his lap, while the baby called out, impatiently, 
“Meat, Danie; baby want meat.” 

“Hush, baby, hush !” Janie whispered, trying 
in vain to keep her eyes on all four of the 
younger children at once, while Aunt Sarah sat 
in dignified silence, pretending not to hear the 
low-toned admonitions. 

“Well, Marianna, what part of the turkey 
will you have?” said Uncle John, when it came 
her turn to be served. 

“Any part, thank you; it makes no differ- 
ence to me,” Marianna rattled off glibly what she 


290 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


considered the polite formula; but her face fell 
as Uncle John cut off the neck and sent it to her, 
saying: “That’s what I always give folks who 
do n’t care.” 

Marianna bit her lip ; but she would not ask 
for another piece, and Uncle John would n’t give 
her another unless she would ask for it ; so she 
made her dinner of the “ fixings,” while Tommy, 
warned by Marianna’s fate, boldly announced 
that he wanted a drumstick. That was the one 
piece that Janie had hoped he would not get; 
for she knew he could not manage it well with 
knife and fork, and she was sure he would take 
it in his fingers, and he did. Serenely uncon- 
scious of her warning glance, and entirely for- 
getful of all her private instructions, Tommy 
took his drumstick in his fingers and gnawed it 
with relish, while Johnny, who sat next Tommy, 
fancying that it was at him that Janie was gazing 
so anxiously, became so nervous and confused 
that he upset his tumbler of water, and in trying 
to catch it, dropped his silver knife on his plate 
and broke a piece out of the edge. 

Poor Johnny — he had not been very hungry 
before, but this destroyed what little appetite he 
had had, and he sat red and mortified, eating 
nothing, during the remainder of the meal. 


Thanksgiving at Aunt Sarah’s. 291 

Then Tommy suddenly remembering Janie’s 
instructions, began to use his napkin continually, . 
wiping his mouth after every two or three mouth- 
fuls, and waving the big square of damask about 
until his sister wished she had never said one 
word to him about it. After awhile he forgot 
again, and finally when he left the table, stuffed 
the napkin in his pocket, under the impression 
that it was his pocket-handkerchief, and then 
suddenly realizing his mistake he pulled it out, 
and dropped it, all soiled and crumpled as it 
was, in his chair. 

Then followed another long period of agony 
to Janie. Uncle John, considering his duty to 
the children done, buried himself in his news- 
paper again, while Aunt Sarah, having given 
each of the younger ones books to look at, again 
devoted her time and attention to Janie; but 
long and awful pauses came frequently, when 
Janie, though she racked her brains for some- 
thing to say, could not think of a single thing. 

In one of these pauses there came a stifled 
giggle from Marianna, who was sitting on the 
sofa with Julia. First Marianna giggled, then 
Julia followed suit. Janie looked over reprov- 
ingly at her sister, and Aunt Sarah looked 
sternly at her small daughter ; but both the chil- 


292 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


dreu were nervous, and the more they tried to 
stop laughing, the more they could n’t. Then 
the baby, thinking there was something funny 
going on, joined in with a merry crow, while 
Aunt Sarah said severely, “Julia, if you can’t 
behave yourself, you can leave the room.” 

That sobered Marianna effectually, for Julia 
went from laughter to tears, and sobbed softly 
behind her handkerchief for the next ten minutes. 

Suddenly the baby broke one of those terrible 
silences. Evidently he could endure no more ; 
for he started up, and turning to his aunt, cried 
out:“Doodby. Doin’ home now. Tome, Danie.” 

Janie seized the opportunity. 

“ I think we ’d better go, Aunt Sarah,” she 
said. “ It is clouding up, and it will take us 
some time to get home, and the baby gets 
sleepy early.” 

“Well,” said Aunt Sarah, with an unmistak- 
able note of relief in her voice, “ if you think 
you must-^-but I expected you to stay to supper, 
of course.” 

“You ’re very kind, Aunt Sarah ; but I think 
we ’d better go,” said Janie, as all the children 
sprang up. It was then that Johnny walked 
bravely up to the cannon’s mouth. With his 
hand on the little silver cross, the color coming 


Thanksgiving at Aunt Sarah’s. 293 

and going in his cheeks, showing what an effort 
it was to him, he walked up to Aunt Sarah and 
said in a straightforward, manly way: “Aunt 
Sarah, I ’in very sorry that I spilt the water and 
broke your plate. I ’m earnin’ some money 
now, and I ’d like to buy another plate for you.” 

Aunt Sarah looked at him in amazement, 
while from behind Uncle John’s paper there 
came a little chuckle of approval, though he said 
no word ; but Aunt Sarah answered, hastily : 

“I guess your uncle can afford to buy all the 
plates we need;” and she actually smiled a grim 
sort of smile as if she would n’t if she could 
help it, as she looked down into the earnest face 
of the boy, while Uncle John said to himself : 
“ Plucky ! I like that. Glad he *s my namesake.” 

So it was with a little less frostiness than 
usual that Aunt Sarah bade the children 
“Good-bye;” but she would not have felt at all 
complimented if she could have seen how every 
one of the six faces brightened as the handsome 
front door closed behind them, or heard Dick 
mutter savagely in Janie’s ear : 

“Catch me ever goin’ there again to dinner!” 

How good it did seem as the six gathered 
about their own supper-table in the homely but 
homelike little kitchen! The reaction was so 


( 


294 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


great that the children were rather noisy and 
uproarious; but Janie was so relieved herself, 
and understood so well what the others had suf- 
fered through that long, wearisome dinner, that 
she could not bear to check them, and for once 
let the boys make just as much noise as they liked. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


JOHNNY’S PERIL. 

-EE! isn’t this fine, Johnny? Wake 



up ! wake up ! It ’s snowin’ like — like 
blazes!” cried Tommy the next morning, danc- 
ing about delightedly as he pulled on his 
trousers. “ Wish ’t it had snowed like this 
yesterday,” he added, with a vivid remembrance 
of those weary hours at Aunt Sarah’s. 

All day the snow fell silently and steadily, 
and when the children came home from school 
they had a happy time with sleds and snow- 
balls. Johnny felt very big and manly as, for 
the first time in his life, he took Dick’s place, 
and shoveled paths and cleared the sidewalk, 
coming in, with clear eyes and rosy cheeks, to 
call Janie’s attention to the nice wide paths he 
had made. 

But his paths were soon filled up again as 
the white storm continued. As the daylight 
faded and night came on, it grew intensely cold, 
and a cutting north wind blew the falling snow 
into great, heavy drifts. Janie rummaged trunks 
and closets for extra bedding, and kept hot fires 


296 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


in both the stoves; and when the children went 
to bed, she had hot irons, well wrapped in news- 
papers and old cloths, put into each bed at the 
foot. 

“It’s a Western blizzard, I guess,” Dick said, 
when he came from the store. “ We ’ve never 
had anything like it since I can remember, and 
the very first day of winter, too. If it keeps on 
all night, trains an’ everything will be blocked.” 

It did keep on all night When Janie went 
down-stairs in the morning she could not open 
the shutters, the snow was banked against them 
so, and she had to light a lamp. The children 
thought it delightful to eat breakfast by lamp- 
light. They thought everything tasted better 
than usual, and when breakfast was over they 
were wild to get out into the big drifts. 

“I guess you won’t be able to clear the paths 
this morning, Johnny,” Janie said, as Dick 
opened the door, and they saw the snow piled 
up higher than Tommy’s head. 

“ No, I shall have to tackle that drift,” said 
Dick, pulling on his rubber boots. “I shall 
have to be late at the shop this morning ; but 
everything will be late to-day, I guess.” 

The storm was over now, and the sun was 
beginning to break through the clouds; but the 


Johnny’s Peril. 


297 


cold was still intense, and the bitter wind made 
it very trying for those who were obliged to 
be out. 

“ I do n’t believe you ’d better go to school, 
children,” Janie said; but at this a loud protest 
arose from Marianna and the boys. 

“ It ’ll be fun to wade through such great 
drifts! O do let us go, Janie,” they pleaded. 

Janie hesitated ; but when Dick said, “O let 
’em go; ’t won’t hurt ’em any if they wrap up 
well,” Janie gave way. She hunted up an old 
pair of leggings for Marianna, and tied a thick 
barege veil over her head. Marianna rebelled a 
little at the veil, but finally gave in when she 
found she' would not be allowed to go unless she 
wore it. The boys tied their woolen comforters 
over their ears and around their throats, and 
Tommy was willing enough to wear mittens. 

They thought it was great fun, when they 
started out, to plow their way through drifts 
up to their waists, and even higher in some 
places ; but by the time they reached the school- 
house they were all three glad that they had no 
farther to go. Several of the children, who lived 
farther from the school, froze their ears and 
noses that morning. 

There was but one session, and the three 
20 


298 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


came home in high glee over their half-holiday, 
and eager to tell of all they had heard about the 
storm. 

“They say the railroads are all blocked so 
no trains can get to the city,” Johnny cried; 
“and the river is all frozen over so the boats 
can’t go, not even the big bay steamers.” 

“Has our milkman been here?” put in Mari- 
anna. “ Dots of the milk-wagons did n’t get in 
at all, nor the marketmen, either.” 

“It ’s going to snow again, too, I ’in afraid,”. 
Janie said, as she looked at the gathering clouds. 

The children were very willing now to stay 
indoors. Even the snow did not tempt them to 
venture out, when they had to keep as close as 
possible to the glowing stove to be at all com- 
fortable. 

Helen, in all the wraps she could wear, ran in 
to see how they were getting on. She had a big 
bundle in her arms, and the children broke into 
shouts of delight when the big bundle was un- 
rolled and Tag sprang out. 

“ I thought you ’d like your playfellow,” 
Helen said; “and I ’m sure he was lonesome, he 
whined and seemed so uneasy ; so I brought 
him along.” 

Helen’s coming made a welcome diversion 


Johnny’s Peril. 


299 


for them all ; for there was something strangely 
depressing in the bitter cold, and the dull, dark 
atmosphere threatening another storm. 

“I do wish you did n’t have to carry papers 
to-night, Johnny,” Janie said, as the boy began 
to make ready to face the weather again. “I ’ve 
half a mind not to let you go.” 

But Johnny was so distressed at the sugges- 
tion that she could not forbid his going. 

“All the other carriers will go,” he said, “an’ 
if I do n’t, I ’ll lose my place, sure. I ’ll wrap 
up warm, Janie, an’ I ’ll be all right.” 

“O dear! I wish mother was home. I do n’t 
know what to do,” Janie said ; but seeing that 
Johnny was determined to go, she brought out 
a pile of old newspapers, and, while Tommy 
shouted with laughter, proceeded to fit Johnny 
out with what she called a paper suit. She 
pinned newspapers, about his chest and back, 
fastening them securely under his jacket. Then, 
in spite of his protests, she pinned papers about 
his legs under his stockings, even putting some 
around his feet, making him wear a pair of 
Dick’s shoes instead of his own, to accommodate 
the extra thickness. 

“ There !” she said, as she tied his comforter 
over his ears, and Tommy’s over that, and 


300 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


handed hitn two pairs of mittens. “ I ’ve done 
all I can to keep you from freezing, Johnny.” 

“ I feel ’s if I was starched, with all this paper 
on me,” Johnny grumbled, half laughing and 
half vexed, as he picked up his bag and set out. 

He had not been gone more than fifteen 
minutes when Dick came in. His face fell 
when he found that Johnny had gone. 

“ I got off as early as I could,” he said. “ I 
hoped I ’d get here before he started. It ’s too 
cold for him to be out ; and, besides, it ’s begin- 
ning to snow again. I was going to take his 
papers for him to-night.” 

“ I do wish I ’d known it, and I would have 
kept him home,” Janie said, looking out anx- 
iously into the street. 

Dick wandered restlessly from window to 
window. He had not taken off his overcoat, 
and presently exclaimed : 

“ I ’ve got to go after him, Janie. He ’s too 

little a chap to be out alone in such weather as 

% 

this. Why, it ’s just awful ! You do n’t know 
anything about it here in the house !” 

“ But how can you find him ? He will have 
left the office before you can get down there,” 
Janie said; “ and you do n’t know his route, do 
you ?” 


Johnny’s Peril. 


301 


“ Yes ; he has the same one I used to have, 
you know. I ’ll go down to the office, and then 
follow him around. Probably he’s all right; 
but if he should n't be, you know.” 

“ O yes ; I’m so glad you ’re going, Dick,” 
Janie said, hurriedly ; then she added, with a 
sudden thought: “ Can’t you take Tag along?” 

Dick looked at the dog doubtfully. 

“He ’ll freeze,” he said. “ I guess I ’d better 
not.” 

“O do, Dick. He is n’t heavy. He ’s such a 
little fellow, you can carry him, same as Helen 
did.” 

Dick looked out of the window once more ; 
then he answered, hastily : 

“O well, give him here. It ’s all nonsense, 
but I ’ll take him.” 

Janie watched him from the window, and 
shuddered as she heard the north wind whistle 
about the windows, and saw how quickly Dick’s 
figure was hidden in the swirling snow and fast- 
falling night-shadows. 

Meantime Johnny, starting out, had wisely 
saved time and strength by taking a car to the 
newspaper office. When, with his fifty papers 
in his bag, he left the office, he realized, as he 
had not done before, the task before him. It was 


302 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


fifteen blocks — some of them long blocks — from 
the office to the first house on his route, and he 
must face northwest all the way. He set out 
bravely, however, for it was Johnny’s way to do 
whatever he had to do without flinching ; but 
never before had he had such a walk as that. 
The sidewalks in front of vacant houses and 
lots were not cleared at all, and the little fellow 
had to plod wearily and slowly through big 
drifts, or make detours into the street to avoid 
them. 

It seemed to him that he never would reach 
the first house on his route. It was quite dark 
when he did at last reach it, and thankfully 
drew one paper from his bag. Many of the 
houses stood back from the street, and others 
upon terraces ; and to-night he could not pass, 
as he usually did, from door to door across the 
terrace, but must go up and down the steps and 
around by the walk every time, which made the 
route so much longer, and took more than 
double the usual time. > 

In spite of all Janie’s care, he began to feel 
bitterly cold ; and 0, how that icy north wind 
cut his face! Once he stopped and rubbed 
his face with snow, as the teacher had told the 
children that morning to do in such weather. 


Johnny’s Peril. 


303 


Then on he plodded again; but he was getting 
so tired ! — tired as he never had been since he 
came back from the seashore. His heart beat 
so hard that that tired him too, and made him 
feel sick and faint. He sat down on a doorstep to 
get his breath, and suddenly he realized that he 
was nodding. Johnny did not know the danger 
of sleeping in such weather, but he jumped up 
with a laugh that was half a sob. 

“How funny, to be sleepy out doors here !” 
he said. “ Tommy would laugh at me. Let ’s 
see,” he glanced up at the door, but he could 
not see the number. A bewildered feeling was 
creeping over him. It frightened him. He 
tried to count the papers in his bag. There 
were only a few left ; but his fingers were so 
numb and stiff that he could hardly handle the 
papers now. 

He stumbled blindly on, the snow beating in 
his face, and the wind almost driving him back 
in spite of all his efforts. 

“O dear!” he sighed, “I am so tired, an’ I 
must deliver the rest of these, else I ’ll be 
bounced, sure.” Up another pair of steps he 
stumbled ; down again, and on across the street; 
but here he stopped bewildered. Had he lost 
his way? Surely there ought to be a brick 


304 Next-Door Neighbors. 

house on this corner where he stood, and there 
was no house at all, but only a big vacant lot, 
across which the wind was sweeping the snow 
in blinding, cutting clouds. Then he must 
have left the last papers at the wrong houses. 
He stumbled across the street to a lamp-post 
and tried to make out the name of the street, 
but the falling snow hid it from his tired eyes. 

“What shall I do?” he cried. “ I do n’t know 
where I am.” 

Instinctively he kept on, stumbling often, 
now and then falling, and again finding himself 
up to his waist in a huge drift. He met no 
one. It seemed as if he was out alone in this 
fearful storm; and on and on he went, too 
dazed and exhausted now to care much where 
he went or what befell him, till at last he 
dropped, utterly spent and hardly conscious. 
The wind lulled a little then, and the snow fell 
softly, gently on the weary little lad so fast 
drifting away from life ; the little lad who had 
tried so bravely to do his duty. 

Five minutes slipped away, and Johnny did 
not stir; ten, and through the thick-falling 
flakes dashed something small and quick, and 
Tag was there beside the little figure, barking 
and pulling at the feet, hands, jacket, anything 


Johnny’s Peru.. 


305 


he could get hold of, calling as plainly as any 
dog could call to Dick : 

“Hurry! hurry! hurry! O how slow these 
human creatures are!” 

But Dick was close at hand, and the little 
frame house was close at hand too ; for, without 
knowing it, Johnny had turned his face home- 
ward, and was not half a block away from his 
own door when he stumbled and fell. 

O how Janie did long to run in next door and 
bring mother home; but that could not be, so 
she sent Dick to ask Mrs. Morris what she 
should do, and Helen came back with Dick ; and 
between them, following Mrs. Morris’s direc- 
tions, Johnny was soon brought back to life, 
and put to bed, where rest and sleep were his 
best medicines. 

And as for Tag, he was a thousand times 
dearer than ever to them all from that night. 

“For I ’d given Johnny up,” Dick said, as he 
told the story of his search. “I ’d been all over 
Johnny’s route and found where he left his last 
papers; and I ’d searched all about, and I never 
should have found him but for this little yellow 
dog;” and he stooped to pat the rough head, 
while Tag barked joyously, and evidently under- 
stood every word. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


CHRISTMAS AT THE BROWNS’. 

TTER the blizzard came a thaw that rapidly 



Tv leveled the snowdrifts, and then a fort- 
night of clear, cold weather, that made every- 
body feel good. 

Christmas was only ten days off now, and 
the air of the little frame house was full of 
Christmas secrets. There never had been any- 
thing like it there before, for on other years there 
had only been the few simple gifts that the 
mother could make or buy for the children. 
But this year Dick felt himself a capitalist with 
the twenty dollars a month that he was to have 
from the first of January ; and Johnny — why, 
Johnny had five whole dollars of his own earning; 
and there was Marianna’s sunflower money — 
not a very large sum, of course, but all her own 
to do with as she would. Janie, had she had 
leisure to do so, would have grieved not a little 
over her empty purse; but she was too busy 
these days to have time for grieving. 

Marianna and Johnny were frequently seen 
whispering in corners or behind doors, and Janie 


3°6 


Christmas at thk Browns’. 307 

had to take great pains to make a noise when 
she passed near them, lest she should overhear 
what was not meant for her ears. 

Tommy alone had no part in these delightful 
plans. His pockets were as empty as Janie’s, 
and he was getting to feel most decidedly left 
out in the cold, 'when, one morning, Johnny 
called him up-stairs and put a silver dollar into 
his hand. Tommy looked at it wonderingly. 

“ What ’ll I do with it?” he said. 

“ It ’s for you to buy Christmas presents 
with,” said Johnny, “for mother an’ Janie an’ 
all, you know. We ’re goin’ to — Marianna an’ 
me — an’ I thought you’d want to, too; an’ I 
knew you had n’t any money; an’ you’ve helped 
me carry the papers lots of nights, you know.” 

“ For me to spend ?” said Tommy, a happy 
smile brightening his little freckled face. “A 
whole dollar ! Johnny, you ’re real good, an’ 
I ’ve been thinking you and Marianna was 
mean as toadstools, ’cause you kept whispering 
’round, an’ would n’t tell me nothin’.” 

Johnny laughed happily. “You see we were 
just inakin’ up our minds what to buy for 
mother ’n’ all. Next Saturday we ’re goin’ 
down street to buy the things; an’ now you can 
go, too.” 


3°8 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“An’ can I buy just ’xactly what I want to?” 
said Tommy, eagerly. 

“Yes,” said Johnny, “just like me an’ Mari- 
anna;” and he ran down stairs, Tommy follow- 
ing slowly, with a very thoughtful face. A 
whole silver dollar was a great responsibility to 
Tommy. 

It was with some misgivings that Janie saw 
the three children set out on the shopping ex- 
pedition Saturday. She had not very much 
faith in their judgment, and was much afraid 
that they would waste their money on useless 
things, or have their pockets picked. 

There was small danger, however, of any- 
body’s picking that silver dollar out of Tommy’s 
pocket, for he kept his hand fast closed upon it 
all the way. Tommy did not feel the dignity 
and importance of this first independent shop- 
ping as the other two did. He was too much 
occupied with his efforts to decide how his 
enormous wealth should be apportioned for the 
various persons on his list. 

The children started out right after breakfast, 
and it was nearly one o’clock when, tired and 
hungry, but very happy, the three came back 
with their bundles in their arms, and ran hastily 
up-stairs, holding their purchases behind them 


Christmas at the Browns’. 309 

lest Janie might possibly guess what the 
wrappers hid from view. 

Janie had hoped that her mother might be 
home again before Christmas, as her little 
patient was almost well ; but Mr. Elliot wanted 
her to stay a week longer. Every morning, now, 
Mrs. Brown, wrapped in a big shawl, went out 
on Lillian’s balcony; and Janie, also in a big 
shawl, stood in the yard, and talked with her. 
The baby usually assisted at these conferences 
to the extent of standing beside Janie and throw- 
ing kisses to his mother at intervals during the 
conversation. And when, after school, Mari- 
anna and the boys had their brief playtime in 
the yard before the night-shadows began to fall, 
the mother was always at the window; generally, 
now, with Lillian beside her, to look on and 
laugh at the frolics of the children ; for the little 
girl was no longer forbidden to be at the west 
windows, but was free to get all the satisfaction 
she could out of her young neighbors. 

It was just three days before Christmas — 
three evenings before — that Janie, alone in the 
sitting-room, was stitching away at a little gift 
for Helen, when she heard her mother’s signal 
at the’ door, and flew to open it. 

“O mother , how good it seems to get hold of 


3 IQ 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


you again!” she cried, with her arms about the 
little woman’s neck. “ It has been such an ag- 
gravation to see you through the window or 
across the yard, and not get even one kiss;” 
and she gave her mother half a dozen kisses 
then and there “to make up,” as she said. 

Then Marianna and Johnny, who had been 
talking across to each other about Christmas 
plans, and so had not followed Tommy and the 
baby into slumber-land, came rushing down- 
stairs to “see mother,” and of course they 
could n’t go back to bed while she staid, so she 
wrapped shawls about them, and made them sit 
with their feet to the stove, while they heard 
all the story of those weeks of watching and 
anxiety. 

Marianna kept her face in the shadow as she 
listened, and almost held her breath as the 
mother told of that one terrible night when the 
little life hung in the balance. But as she went 
on to tell how the child was growing stronger 
day by day, and how sweet and dear she was, 
Marianna’s eyes filled with happy tears, and she 
murmured under her breath, “ My little girl.” 

“And she’s coming in here to see you as 
soon as she is able to go out; her father has 
promised that she shall,” said Mrs. Brown. 


Christmas at the Browns’. 31 i 

“Here — to see us!” repeated Marianna, with 
a look of wondering delight. 

That night Marianna dreamed that a little 
white angel came softly floating down from 
heaven to visit her. 

Now, for the first time, the mother heard the 
story of Johnny’s danger the night of the 
blizzard. 

“And to think I was so near, and never knew 
a word of it!” she said, going over to kiss the 
boy again and again, with her eyes full of 
tears. “ Well, well, the good Lord surely cared 
for you when your mother could n’t. And now 
I must go, children. But I can run in for a few 
minutes ’most every evening after this, I guess ; 
for Tillian’s Aunt May is coming to-morrow to 
stay till after Christmas, and the child is so fond 
of her that I shall not have to stay with her 
so constantly.” 

“And you’ll be home Christmas-day, won’t 
you?” questioned Johnny, eagerly. 

“Yes, I ’ll surely be home on Christmas-day,” 
she answered, as with a good-night kiss to every 
one, even the sleeping children up-stairs, she 
went away, leaving with Janie her “good-night” 
for Dick, who was hard at work again now, even- 
ings, with Bert^Morris. 


312 • 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Helen had planned a visit to the Children’s 
Hospital on the day before Christmas, and Ma- 
rianna, Johnny, and Tommy, all begged to go 
with her; so the four set off together, the boys 
insisting on carrying her basket, while each of 
them had a small package of his own. 

Even at the hospital there was a mild flavor 
of Christmas in the air. Those of the children 
who were well enough to show interest in any- 
thing, cast eager and inquiring glances at the 
little packages that Marianna and the boys car- 
ried. They, as well as Helen, were such fre- 
quent visitors that the sick children claimed 
them all as friends now, and they received glad 
welcome always. 

Still in his cot in the corner lay the poor 
little victim who had made so deep an impres- 
sion on Tommy at his first visit. He smiled ^t 
Tommy this morning, but he did not speak — 
not even when Tommy laid on the bed-clothes 
beside his little, thin hand the package he 
had brought. 

“It’s for you — a Christmas present, you 
know. I bought it myself for you. Do n’t you 
want to see what it is?” Tommy said, eagerly. 

Just the faintest little nod and flicker of a 
smile answered him, while the big hollow eyes, 




Christmas at the Browns’. 313 

never glancing at the package, rested on 
Tommy’s round face. 

“Shall I open it for you?” Tommy said, and 
as another little nod gave assent, he began to 
untie the cord. 

“There!” he cried, triumphantly, while Ma- 
rianna and Johnny looked a little doubtfully at 
Helen and the nurse, uncertain what they would 
think of Tommy’s selection. It was a big, hairy 
jumping-jack in a box. 

“ See,” Tommy said, “ you just open the cover 
an’ he jumps right up himself. Do n’t you 
think he ’s funny ?” 

One glance the sick child gave — once again 
the flickering smile answered Tommy’s words 
and spoke the thanks the little tongue could 
never utter ; then the eyes rested again on the 
face he had learned to love and watch for, and 
never left it again, even when the others spoke 
to him. 

When they said “ Good-bye,” wishing him a 
happy Christmas, even Tommy, though he 
knew not why, could not wish him a merry 
Christmas. His cold fingers moved just a little 
towards Tommy, and there was a look of quiet 
satisfaction in the sorrowful eyes as Tommy 

gently pressed the little bony hand in his. 

21 


3 X 4 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


“ He ’s going fast,’’ the nurse whispered to 
Helen as they left the ward. 

Yes, he was going fast. His happy Christmas 
was spent in heaven, where his pitiful little life 
might bloom into the happiness he had never 
known on earth. 

But other little hearts at the hospital were 
made glad by many gifts from many friends, and 
perhaps there was as much Christmas joy there 
as anywhere else in the great city. 

In the beautiful home of the Elliots great 
preparations were on foot; for the boys were at 
home, and Aunt May was there, and everybody 
was so happy to see little Lillian’s cheeks 
growing round and rosy, and to hear her happy 
laugh ring through the house, that they wanted 
to have a Thanksgiving and a Christmas festival 
rolled into one. But it was to be wholly a 
family celebration, no outside guests being 
invited. 

Even Mrs. Elliot, in her gratitude for the re- 
covery of her one little daughter, threw aside, 
for the time, her pride and selfishness, and gave 
kindly thought to others, wondering at the new, 
strange happiness that filled her heart in doing 
so. Mr. Elliot always had a long talk with his 
little daughter just before her bedtime, and in 


Christmas at the Browns’. 


3i5 


one of these talks he had promised her that she 
should have anything she wanted for her 
Christmas gift — her special gift from him. The 
child had looked up eagerly and said: “Any- 
thing that I choose, papa, even if it is very dif- 
ferent from anything that I ’ve ever chosen 
before ?” 

“Yes, you shall have just what you choose,” 
he repeated. 

“Even if it costs a big, big lot of money?” 
the child questioned, earnestly. 

“Yes, even if it costs a thousand dollars,” 
the father answered, pressing her more closely 
to him. 

“ Then I want — ” The rest was whispered 
in her father’s ear. He listened intently to 
it all. 

m 

“Can I, papa — can I?” Lillian questioned 
aloud, as she finished; and her little face glowed 
with delight as he answered, promptly: “Yes, 
dear, and I think you have chosen a beautiful 
Christmas gift. Now let me see — suppose we 
take Aunt May into our counsels. She will 
know just how to carry out your plan, and I’ll 
furnish all the money she wants.” 

Lillian clapped her hands, and slipped down 
from her father’s lap, crying delightedly : 


316 Next-Door Neighbors. 

“ Please go and bring Aunt May, papa. I can't 
go to sleep till I ’ve told her all about it.” 

So Aunt May came, and her kind eyes lighted 
up with sympathetic pleasure as she listened to 
the child’s plan, and of course she promised to 
help to carry it out. 

It took more than one shopping expedition; 
but Aunt May loved that kind of shopping. 
And how Lillian enjoyed looking at every single 
package that Aunt May brought home ! She 
kept them all in her own room, and only laughed 
her happy little laugh, and shook her head gayly 
when orderly Mrs. Brown wanted to have the 
big pile of packages put somewhere else. 

Mrs. Morris had invited all the Brown 
children to eat their Christmas dinner with her. 
Janie would really have preferred to spend the 
day at home, where the noise of the children 
would disturb no one but herself ; but Helen 
would take no refusal when she brought the in- 
vitation, so she was obliged to accept it. 

On Christmas Eve the children hung up 
their stockings, and the mother came over in 
the evening and helped Janie fill them. By 
great economy, Janie had managed to squeeze 
out two dollars from the money her mother had 
left in her hands for housekeeping expenses, 


Christmas at the Browns’. 317 

and this was all she had to expend. It was no 
easy matter to make two dollars buy gifts 
for mother and all the children, and some very 
small ones for the Morrises. She had wondered 
if Dick was going to purchase his gifts himself, 
or~if he had decided not to give any, for the 
days slipped away and he said nothing to her on 
the subject ; but just the day before Christmas, 
when every minute was full, he came to her 
with seven dollars and the remark: 

“ I ’ve no time to go shoppin’, and I do n’t 
know what to get anyhow. You get somethin’ 
for ’em all, will you?” 

So through the crowded stores Janie had to 
push her way that afternoon, waiting to be 
waited on, and then waiting for change, while 
the precious minutes slipped away — Dick 
meantime complacently thinking how Janie was 
enjoying the fun of spending all that money ; 
“ For girls always like shopping.” 

Of course Janie was the recipient of all the 
children’s holiday secrets, and on Christmas Eve 
all their gifts were committed to her — all except 
her own. These Marianna was to keep; the 
plan being for her to creep down stairs early in 
the morning and fill Janie’s stocking. 

“ But mind you do n’t peek one single bit 


318 Next-Door Neighbors. 

at our stockin’s or yours, Marianna,” was 
Tommy’s last injunction before sleep overtook 
him. 

It was quite dark when Marianna awoke, 
and wrapping her flannel skirt around her — ■ 
that being the first garment on which she laid 
her hand — she drew from under the bed the 
presents for Janie, and tiptoed softly down- 
stairs, carefully closing the door at the foot be- 
fore she lighted her candle. 

Her eyes danced as the flickering light 
showed her the seven stockings — for they had 
hung one for the mother, of course — all full. 
Yes, even Janie’s own was full. Marianna did 
long to take one peep into her own ; but she 
had promised, so she did not even touch it, but 
hastily piling the things she carried on the floor 
under her sister’s stocking, she hurried back to 
bed, and tucked her cold feet down beside 
Janie’s to get warm. 

But there was no more sleep for her, and she 
lay there waiting impatiently for daylight and 
the awakening of her brothers. 

Presently there came a low whisper from 
Johnny : 

“Say, Tommy, I guess it’s ’most morning.” 

No answer from Tommy; but Marianna 


Christmas at the Browns’. 


3i9 


popped out of bed again, and ran to Johnny’s 
bedside. 

“ O Johnny, I went down with Janie’s things 
ever so long ago, and our stockings are just 
stuffed. I can’t get to sleep again, can you?” 

“No; I guess not. What time is it?” 

“ I don’ know. It ’s dark, but it do n’t get 
light now till ’most seven o’clock. If Tommy 
was awake, I b’lieve I ’d go down an’ get our 
stockings an’ bring ’em up here.” 

“Let’s wake him,” said Johnny, still in a 
whisper, and not suspecting that such carefully 
guarded tones could have awakened Dick, who 
kept still and made no sound. So Marianna 
glided across to Tommy’s bed. 

“ Tommy, Tommy, it ’s ’most morning, I 
guess. We ’re going to get our stockings, if 
you ’ll wake up,” she whispered, softly shaking 
him. 

Tommy struck out at her, crying in his 
hoarse voice: 

“ You stop that, Will Barton, or I ’ll knock 
you into the middle of next week.” 

Marianna smothered a laugh as she dodged 
the blow, and shook him more energetically. 

“I say, ’t is n’t breakfast-time yet. It ’s dark 
as a pocket,” he grumbled, sleepily; but as 


320 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


Marianna whispered in his ear, “ Wish you 
merry Christmas ! Wake up, Tommy ; I ’m 
going to get the stockings,” he sat up in bed, 
and the next minute, with a gleeful shout, he 
was shaking the long-suffering baby into wake- 
fulness, too. 

“Let’s all go down-stairs,” Johnny sug- 
gested ; but Marianna said : 

“ No, you stay in bed an’ keep warm. My 
feet are ’most frozen now — they can’t be any 
colder ; so I ’ll run down an’ get all our 
stockin’s.” 

“ Might ’s well bring mine, too, since you 
won’t let a feller have his nap out,” Dick called 
after her, and then he got up and lit the lamp. 

Then up came Marianna with the five bulg- 
ing stockings, and dropping Dick’s and Johnny’s 
on their bed, she hopped under the bed-clothes 
beside the baby. 

Then such a jolly time as there was, as one 
thing after another was pulled out and examined. 
They forgot to be quiet, and Janie in the next 
room smiled to herself as she heard the merry 
chatter. She smiled again as she struck a 
match and looked at the clock, to find that it was 
just fifteen minutes after three. 

Marianna, coming in presently to wish her a 


Christmas at the Browns’. 


321 


merry Christmas, stared at the clock with un- 
believing eyes, and then ran back to tell the 
boys that they must go to sleep again, for it 
was n’t morning after all ; but the baby was the 
only one whose eyes closed again that night. 
He dropped asleep with a sugar-dog half eaten 
in one hand, and a cotton-flannel rabbit in the 
other, and slept serenely through all the noise of 
his two brothers till breakfast-time. 

Janie’s stocking and the mother’s remained 
untouched till breakfast was over ; then Mari- 
anna could wait no longer. 

“Do look at your presents, Janie,” she said. 
“I don’t see how you can wait;” and all the 
children gathered about and looked on with 
eager interest as Janie unwrapped each parcel. 

There was a handkerchief from Marianna, a 
book from Johnny, a silver napkin-ring from 
Mrs. Morris and Helen, and the material for a 
dress from her mother. Tommy’s gift was a 
mouth organ. 

“ I c’n use it, you know, if you do n’t want to. 
It ’s a real nice one,” he remarked, as his sister 
unwrapped it. 

“ I never had so many Christmas presents 
before,” Janie said, as she rolled up the stock- 
ing; but as Dick remarked: “Sure you’ve 


322 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


emptied it?” she unrolled it again and pinched 
the toe; something crackled, and running her 
fingers in, she pulled out a crisp, new two-dollar 
bill. 

“ O Dick, from yon ?” she cried joyfully ; and 
Dick, turning his back, answered gruffly : 

“ I did n’t know what to get you, so I 
thought you could buy what you like for your- 
self.” 

When the house was all in order, the six 
went into Mrs. Morris’s, where the children 
looked with admiring eyes at the evergreen 
trimmings and the wreaths in the windows, 
while Dick said to himself: “We might have 
trimmed up a little if I ’d only thought of it.” 

Then he shyly poked into Mrs. Morris’s 
hands a bunch of exquisite Christmas roses. 

“O Dick, how lovely!” she cried. “You 
extravagant boy, when roses are worth their 
weight in gold, almost!” 

“ Not quite,” he answered, as he turned 
away, pleased with her pleasure. “ I ’ve got a 
bush of my own in the hot-house, and these 
came from that.” 

Janie thought of that dreadful Thanksgiving 
dinner, as she looked at the children’s happy 
faces that day. She had to speak to Tommy 


Christmas at the Browns’. 


323 


once or twice, and keep her eye on the baby ; 
but nobody looked stern or annoyed, and they 
only laughed at the happy baby’s unconscious 
capers. 

“Hark!” Janie suddenly exclaimed, later in 
the day. “What is that pounding? It sounds 
as if it were in our house.” 

She turned toward the window, but Helen 
exclaimed hastily : “ O Janie, come up to my 
room. I ’ve got something to show you there. 
Come on, all of you ;” and Mrs. Morris smiled as 
they all ran off. 

It was just after the early tea that Mrs. Morris 
said, with a smile that the girl could not under- 
stand : 

“ It seems very inhospitable to say such a 
thing, but, Janie, dear, those children ought to 
be in bed,” and she glanced at Tommy, who 
was yawning wearily; while the baby, tired 
with the joyful excitement of the day, was 
actually nodding as he sat in Helen’s little rock- 
ing-chair. 

Janie sprang up hurriedly. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ they were awake so early 
this morning. We ’ve had a lovely time,” she 
added, as she stooped to kiss Mrs. Morris good- 
bye. Mrs. Morris kissed her softly on either 


324 


Next-Door Neighbors. 


cheek, and again Janie wondered what that 
peculiar smile meant, as she said : 

“And this has been the happiest Christmas 
you’ve ever had ?” 

“O yes,” said Janie, “the very happiest; and 
now we must run home, for mother is coming 
this evening.” 

As she stepped outside, Janie gave a startled 
glance at her own windows. 

“Why, Dick,” she cried, “who can be in the 
house ? You have the key, have n’t you ?” 

“No; I lent it,” Dick answered, running on 
ahead and opening the door. The others followed, 
but stopped, with amazed faces, on the threshold. 

“Come in! come in!” cried the dear mother 
voice; and Mrs. Brown pulled one after another 
in, laughing at their bewildered faces. It was 
Marianna who rushed forward and dropped 
down beside a little figure with blue eyes and 
golden curls — a laughing little creature, sitting 
in a pretty wicker rocking-chair, looking at them 
all with happy eyes — her own little girl, actu- 
ally there in their own little sitting-room. But 
was it their own little sitting-room ? 

“Yes; look aronnd. How do you like it?” 
Dillian was crying, with eager delight, looking 
from one wondering face to another. 


Christmas at thk Browns’. 325 

“Like it?” Janie cried. “We — we like it so 
much we can’t say anything.” 

“That’s good! that’s good!” said Lillian, 
clapping her little white hands joyfully. 

No wonder they could n’t say anything. Ex- 
cept the carpet and the shades, there was not 
one thing in the room that had been there in 
the morning. 

In place of the old lounge with its broken 
springs and dilapidated covering, there was a 
great soft couch, with three down-pillows and a 
roll at the top, and before it lay a thick fur rug. 
The old cane-seat chairs had been replaced with 
strong, pretty ones of bamboo. At one side of 
the room was a little oak book-case full of books, 
and a polished oak table held a pretty lamp, 
with a shade that filled the room with golden 
light. On the walls, that had had only two 
chromos for decorations, there were neatly- 
framed etchings, and a couple of odd vases 
stood on the mantelpiece. 

“ Now go up-stairs — all of you,” the child 
cried. “Go, Marianna;” and Marianna, slowly 
rising, followed the rest, though, she would have 
preferred to stay where she was, and feast her 
eyes on the beautiful little face she loved. 

“O! O! O!” cried Janie, delightedly, as she 


326 Next-Door Neighbors. 

looked into the room that she shared with 
Marianna. 

The old stained bedstead and bureau were 
gone, and in their places stood two little white, 
enameled-iron bedsteads, a big oak bureau, and 
a roomy washstand, with a blue-and-white toilet 
set. Fresh matting covered the floor, with rugs 
before beds and bureau, and oak chairs stood at 
the windows. 

Even the boys’ room had new matting, chairs, 
and washstand — and all so fresh and pretty! 
Janie was so glad that she could scarcely utter 
a word of thanks when she went back to the 
sitting-room; but words were not needed — her 
happy face spoke for her. 

“ It ’s my Christmas present, and I think it ’s 
the very nicest one I ever, ever had,” Lillian 
cried, just as the door opened and a lady came 
in — a lady whose sweet face and soft gray hair 
looked strangely familiar to Janie; but where 
she had seen her she could not think until the 
lady stooped and kissed the baby, saying: “Why, 
little David Solomon, how you have grown !” 

“O! it’s the dear lady I saw in the horse- 
car,” Janie cried, softly then, and Lillian added: 
“ It ’s my dear Aunt May.” 

Was it any wonder that the little Browns 


Christmas at the Browns’. 327 

were too happy and excited to sleep for hours 
that night — except Tommy and the baby, that 
is? They went off to bed together just after Mr. 
Elliot came to carry off his little daughter. It 
was not until then that Janie had a chance to 
ask how it had all been managed, and her 
mother answered : 

“It was all that precious child’s plan, and her 
Aunt May carried it out for her. I never sus- 
pected what all her quiet questions meant, and 
I never guessed what was being done till I came 
in here with Mr. Elliot when he brought 
Lillian in. You see, Dr. Corson told him that it 
was only the good nursing that saved the child’s 
life ; and her father is so happy to have her well 
again, that I don’t believe she could ask for a 
thing that he would not give her; and she, dear 
child, is all the time thinking what she can do 
for somebody else.” 


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